Something to remember
by Nadin4400
Summary: When Dean accidentally lost his memory, Sam had to ask someone to look after his brother until he found a way to restore it back. AU. Dean/Bela story, full summary is inside. UPDATE 10/28/08! Now COMPLETE! *R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Something to remember

**Summary**: When Dean lost his memory Sam had to ask someone to look after his brother until he found a way to restore it back. Guess, how much that "someone" liked the prospect when she had business to do?

**Spoilers**: 3x03 "Bad day at Black Rock", 3x06 "Red sky at morning" and 3x07 "Fresh blood". Pre-"Deam a little dream of me".

**Characters:** Dean, Bela, Sam, Bobby. Maybe somebody else, because I have just started with the stuff and have no idea about what's gonna happen in the following chapters.

**Pairings**: Dean/Bela

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, I do not own any of them although, believe me, I wish I did

**Note**: I decided to write something light, with lots of fun, humor and fluff and I hope it wored ;) Not Colt-, Bela's deal- and death-related. Well, not directly at least. Something in "Bad day at Black Rock"- and "Red sky at morning"-style, as if there were no "Dream a little dream of me" and "Time is on my side" at all. Bela is still baddie but sort of good baddie, if you see what I mean. And… from now on we all pretend that we don't know about her deal :))

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**Chapter 1**

Small waves splashed lazily against the softest white sand, crossed by the shadows of palm trees, and sun was shining high in deep blue sky, soft and warm.

Bela Talbot stretched herself leisurely in the hammock letting cool breeze caress her body, small smile full of satisfaction playing on her lips. She took a sip of her ice-cold Margarita – from that special glass with a cute little umbrella for decoration – and closed her eyes. She was free, she was alone, and she had all the time in the world. Her body relaxed, mind started drifting away lulled by the monotonous wash.

It was a lovely day, Bela thought somewhat distractedly. It really was…

Until the damn fly appeared out of nowhere and started buzzing right into her ear. That annoying, irritating sound that could drive crazy even the most patient of all people. Bela Talbot was patient. Could be at least, when she needed it. But not now, not when she was feeling so happy and content. Not when the damn insect was ruining her day!

Not even bothering to open her eyes, Bela waved her hand trying to shoo persistent fly away. And once again after that, when the buzzing did not stop. Her fists clenched involuntarily in an immense wish to slap the damn thing dead, and she had to grit her teeth to suppress it. Ignore it, she told herself. Just ignore it. Relaxation was the motto of the day!

But the longer she waited, the more annoying it was getting. The sound grew louder as if the insect climbed into her very head. Bela reached her hand out with a steady intention to catch the fly and finally end this torture and…

And she woke up.

Growled in frustration because the dream was too good to leave it until eight in the morning and buried herself deeper into the warmness of her blankets, enjoying soft touch of silk sheets to her skin. Hoped that if she wished really hard she'd see that dream again, right from the place where it ended. If she was too busy dealing with her sellers and buyers and other sort of contacts to go to the beach for real now, it was damn unfair to miss a chance to have good time when she was sleeping. Oh, the last time she was on the beach was like…

And this was when the train of her thought was rudely interrupted by that annoying buzzing once again. Oh, no! Not now! But wait! She woke up, didn't she? Because – hey! – that was the smell of her favorite lavender fabric softener and that was definitely her cat purring at the foot of her bed in his sleep, probably dreaming about something pleasant, too. Then where did the fly come from?!

It took Bela half a minute to realize that the sound had actually nothing to do with any of the insects. It was the buzzing of her door intercommunication system. Someone very persistent wanted to pay her a visit at… Bela moaned and forced her eyes open – and, God, it felt like she had all the sand from her dream beach in them – to look at electronic alarm clock that flickered on the bedside table. At 3:30 in the morning!

_To hell with you, whoever you are_, Bela thought. _Visiting hours are nice to six, by prior arrangement. Saturdays and Sundays excluded_.

Having this thought fully formed in her mind, she buried her face into the softness of her pillow, groped for another one that lay on the other half of the bed, covered her head with it to avoid hearing any sounds at all and promised to ignore whoever it was there at her door. Knew that they'd just give up some time and leave. Her car was in the garage – safety measures! - so, theoretically speaking, there were no evidences of her presence here, she could be in any other part of the world right now. Maybe even on the beach somewhere.

And, thank God, the buzzing finally stopped. Bela sighed with relief, happy at the thought of having the whole five hours of sweet dreams ahead. Five hours of her beauty sleep, in the apartment, in her soft, warm and cozy bed, with the purring form of her cat at an arm's length… Not that there was anyone in the world she'd want to see at this time anyway.

But right when Bela managed to persuade herself that she might as well forget about that late – or was it early? – visit, her cell phone came to life vibrating on the bedside table next to the alarm clock, its ring-tone switched off for the night.

Without opening her eyes Bela reached her hand from under her covers, grabbed the cell phone – considered smashing it against the wall for a second or two, which was so-o-o tempting! – and snapped it open. Didn't bother to look at the caller ID though because, first, it would definitely require having her eyes open and it was way beyond her abilities now, and, second, she didn't really care who she was going to kill some time soon if they didn't leave her alone.

"What?" She growled into the receiver wishing like hell that the sound of her voice was expressive enough to scare away the speaker on the other end of the call.

"Bela?"

Why, who else if it was her number?!

She fell back onto her pillow and shut her eyes as tight as she could, feeling that a severe headache started forming in her head. Sam bloody Winchester. Bela would recognize his voice even in her sleep. And, damn those Winchesters, she wasn't sleeping! Because of Sam and, most likely, his dolt of a brother who must surely be somewhere there too, as these jerks were like some freaking Siamese twins. Dean and Sam. Sam and Dean. Always together, like a stupid cheap sale offer – buy one and get one more for free. Story of her life!

"What do you want, Sam?" She bellowed wondering with frustration if there were chances for her to sleep that night at all. "Do you know what time is it?!"

Of course he did, Bela thought somewhat gloomily. No way on Earth they'd drop by during daylight just because it wouldn't piss her off as much as at 3:30 in the morning.

"Open the door," Sam asked and even added quickly, "please." As if being polite was a key to people's hearts or something.

"Go to hell, Sam, seriously," she growled again and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips, pretty much sure that she wouldn't see the beach or that wonderfully comfortable hammock in her dream again even if she'd be lucky enough to fall asleep at last, which still was a very big _if_. She would definitely be dreaming about torturing the Winchesters, something Inquisition style.

Sam cleared his throat quietly and Bela wondered why she didn't hang up still. Should have as well switched her cell phone off right away.

"Let us in, Bela! It's not a… phone talk," and – what a smartass! "I know you're at home."

Did he break into her garage?

"It's not a middle of the night talk for sure," she grumbled and tacked on before finally hanging up, "Greetings to Dean!"

Cell phone switched off till morning – and she really meant it! – and tossed aside somewhere into the blankets, Bela rolled over and fluffed the pillow under her head. Took several deep breaths to calm herself down and hoped that the Winchesters, whatever they came to her for… or with, were not going to force the door open or something. She wouldn't be surprised if they did, though.

When the intercom buzzed again moments later Bela added _Change the apartment or kill the Winchesters_ to the _To do list_ in her mind and finally gave up. She tossed aside her warm covers and winced at the touch of a rather cool air of the room to her skin. Groped for the slippers with her bare feet and marched to the door swearing to God to make the last minutes of Sam and Dean's miserable existence the worst in their lives. Stopped in her tracks, looked down herself, rolled her eyes irritably and headed back to the bedroom for a housecoat to put it over her short dress-like nightgown. All this on never-ending buzzing! Jesus, they _were_ dead!

Bela pushed the button to let them in and stayed at the door hoping to avoid the necessity to actually let them _in_. Expected that a short conversation right here would be enough. It was not bloody likely the Winchesters could possibly say anything that would keep her interested for real for more than five seconds.

Besides, they always were so manly independent and dignified that Bela couldn't even come at once with what they could need from her in the first place.

And, truth be told, they were not so much as friends after her joke with Gordon Walker – she made good money out of that mojo bag, by the way. Thanks to Sam and Dean! No need for them to know that, though. But, hell, who would think that Dean would be so touchy about such trifle?! Geez, how could they live without sense of humor at all?

She yanked the door open at the hurried footsteps in the hallway and anything but barked, "What?!"

Remembered somewhat belatedly that she didn't even take a look at herself in a mirror and felt that her cheeks pinked slightly. Bela ran her fingers through her hair instinctively but jerked her hand away at once, irritated over the edge with herself. Why would she even care about what those lunatics were going to think about her looks?!

Her intention not to let the Winchesters over the doorstep were sent to hell right immediately… and she didn't even notice how it happened! But the next moment the three of them were standing in the corridor – sleepy Bela with her arms crossed on her chest and her eyes flaring with indignation, somewhat uneasy Sam with a mark of deep weariness on his face and very, very strange Dean who was casting sidelong glances in her direction. He didn't even comment on her appearance or her flat or something else, which was… not right. Not natural, she'd even say.

So, okay, she was curious about what was going on because it was weird, like – really! But… at 3:30 in the morning?! No, thanks!

Bela gave Sam a frowned look waiting for explanations, but didn't say a word because, really, it was his idea to_ talk_, wasn't it?

"Dean, would you please wait for me there?" Sam asked his brother under Bela's unblinking gaze and literary pushed him in the direction of a living room. Then he grabbed Bela unceremoniously by the elbow and dragged her to the kitchen, all vibrating with some out of place nervousness.

"What the hell is this all about?" She hissed but kept her voice quiet enough for Dean not to hear it because… she didn't know why! Just because! Cast a quick look at him over her shoulder, but he was too occupied with studying her talking board to notice it, and peered at Sam again, all determination. Bela was not stupid. She saw that something was very wrong, knew for sure that she didn't do anything to cause it and simply couldn't help but wonder what part of that crap made them come to _her_ place, all at once. "Are you two gone nuts, or what?"

"I need your help," Sam said quickly like it was _Now or Never_. As if he could change his mind or something, like _leave_, which Bela doubted, honestly. Or maybe he rehearsed the phrase in his mind. And he even leaned a bit closer to her face, obvious plea in his gaze.

"Well, of course you do!" She rolled her eyes and decided not to buy into this _Oh, please, please, please, help me because people have to help each other_ look. "It doesn't look like a friendly visit, you know." Took a deep breath and counted to five in her mind as it usually helped to pull herself together. Might as well listen to what Sam had to say now that she was out of her bed anyway.

His jaw twitched at her comment.

"It's Dean," he started carefully choosing the words. _Like I didn't notice_, Bela winced to herself but didn't let this slip out. "He is… we were performing that ritual, you know… and he got… umm, sort of hit by the spell. By accident."

Bela's brows arched. _Oh!_

"What kind of ritual?" She asked with genuine curiosity, beauty sleep forgotten for a while. This was getting interesting!

"Anti-poltergeist protection spell," he answered automatically and frowned. "Does it matter?"

"So, what happened to Dean?" Bela ignored his pretty much defensive tone in favor of enjoying the situation. Felt better now that she new that they really did need something from her. More powerful if you like. "He finally lost whatever mind he had left? Don't worry, Sam, you won't even notice." And patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "He won't either."

Sam scowled and Bela could nearly hear what he was thinking of her at the moment. Nothing that could be said out loud in high society, that was for sure. But how could he expect her to help him one way or another if he said it to her in the face? So, he didn't. Practically, he even gritted his teeth to literary swallow the comment. God, she was starting to like it! Some evil part of her at least.

"No, it's not that," Sam huffed. "He… he lost his memory actually."

"What?!"

Bela snapped her head round and peered at Dean who looked… well, like himself in her opinion. Externally at least. Aside from lack of extremely bad manners and biting remarks, which, she seriously suspected, he couldn't live without even for a minute. But still, had she been somebody else, she'd definitely let her jaw drop at the news.

"Really?!" Beauty sleep forgotten forever, she turned and stared at Sam, head inclined slightly to her shoulder.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his hair. "We didn't quite expect something like that to happen. Not _that_ sort of effect anyway."

"I bet you didn't." Bela agreed easily and had to bite her lower lip to hide an unbidden smile. It was almost worth having sleepless night, she admitted. Wished she could see how it happened – totally confused Dean and horrified like hell Sam, both gawking at one another unable to say a word. Could they really be that stupid to let the spell hit one of them? Apparently, they could. Geez, like amateurs! "So, you're saying that your brother forgot everything? Like _everything_?"

Sam scoffed, "He's not like a bloody five year old! He does remember how to use a fork and a knife. And his cell phone, as far as I know," paused thoughtfully. "He just doesn't remember his name. And mine. And your, to tell the truth."

Bela's lips curved into a wry smile.

"I don't know how I am going to live with that, honestly. My dignity is buried under the piles of crashed to pieces self-esteem." Sighed with mock disappointment under Sam's half-worried, half-annoyed look. "I'm sorry for your bother, Sam," it sounded sincere, so she added, "Sort of," not to seem overly concerned. "But I still don't get what exactly any of that have to do with me. Especially at this time of the day."

Sam looked over her shoulder at Dean, who moved to study something else after he finished with the talking board, to make sure he couldn't hear their conversation, and then flashed his best but yet very ingratiating smile at Bela, which couldn't not to arouse her suspicion at once. She knew Sam Winchester couldn't say anything she'd like with such smile on his face and felt an immense urge to throw them both out of her apartment before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"I need to find a way to get him back to normal," Sam said to her, all confidence.

_Back to normal_ sounded almost like a joke to her.

"Good luck!" Bela reacted immediately and quite sincerely this time. "Give me a call when you're done, I'm sure I want to know the details."

He surely didn't expect her to actually help him out with this, did he? Because _No!_ was the only answer she could give, the only answer she was going to give, despite whatever he could say to talk her into this mess. Because there was no way any of the Winchester brothers could be financially sustainable enough to afford her services – no charity here! Because Bela Talbot had her own business to mind, like, say, a very important appointment tomorrow in the afternoon – oh, wait! that was _today_, assuming it was past midnight already. An appointment that could end up with a very profitable deal. Profitable for _her_ in the first place. And which she was not going to miss. No way!

"…so, you don't mind if I leave him here?" Bela heard through that rush of thoughts in her head and realized that she had already missed the beginning of whatever Sam was talking about. And his question strangely sounded more like a statement to her, not exactly a _question_.

"Leave here who?" Bela blinked at him.

It must have been lack of sleep that caused that sudden fit of stupidity and made her freeze on the spot, half formed panic rising inside of her. Or maybe the truth was that she didn't want to get the meaning of what Sam was saying. The truth was that she should have lied to them, come up with some shady crap and never let them in in the first place! Fake flu could be an excuse.

"Dean," he repeated patiently. Gave her a sympathetic look, exactly the same like the one that he received from her minutes ago. "It's going to need some serious research and I can't take Dean with me. He doesn't know the stuff. It'll scare the crap out of him."

"No!" She interrupted him firmly and raised her hand to emphasize the seriousness of her response. "No, no and no, Sam! No way!" _He's a big boy. He'll cope!_ "I know you don't like me much, bit, seriously, what did I do to you?"

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Oh, come on, Bela! Just a little favor…"

"Little?! If you asked for ten bucks that would be little! I'm no nurse or a babysitter or.. whatever, Sam!" She flashed a burning glance at him. "No means no!"

"We saved your life…" he started.

"And you got paid for it!" Bela snapped and huffed in frustration. "So, it's an old story and let's forget about it! There are limits to my gratitude, you know? Despite what you and your brother might think." She paused to take a breath, blood literary boiling in her veins. "Besides, why me? There are hospitals, police stations, asylums!"

"It's _Dean_, not a lost puppy, for God's sake!"

"Yes, and that's my point exactly!" She hissed. "What am I supposed to do with Dean who is not even… _the_ Dean?" _My_ Dean nearly slipped out but after a moment of irritated panic she managed to swallow it and come up with a more appropriate substitution. It would be very embarrassing if she said _my_ because she didn't really think so, and… God, whatever!

"Nothing," Sam replied quickly. "Nothing at all. You won't even notice him."

Muffled noise behind them forced both Sam and Bela look back. And they did so just in time to see one of Bela's favorite Chinese vases falling from the shelf and Dean catching it purely by accident a split second before it smashed into pieces against her antiquarian oak parquet. Damn thing cost more than the whole apartment! Bela closed her eyes, then opened them slowly and started at the ceiling trying to recall when was the last time she was that close to having a heart attack, and failed. Not before she met the Winchesters anyway.

"Oh, sure," she regarded Sam gloomily, but decided not to mention that Dean could as well bank all her money into a pile and set them on fire. It was too optimistic to expect any of them to understand it from her point of view.

"Thanks!" Sam's face lit up and he patted Bela on the back with such force that his gesture nearly sent her flying across the kitchen. "I knew you'd be good."

And he headed for the door, obviously very pleased with himself.

"No!" Bela rushed after him, feeling supremely stupid about how Sam managed to turn her own words against her. "That's not what I meant, Sam!" Caught up with him at the very door. Felt even more stupid in that housecoat of hers fluttering behind her back like some Batman wings and those pink girly slippers, with Dean looking at how she was chasing his brother all around her flat. Wanted to growl. Or kill Sam. Or…

"I'll be back soon," Sam assured her and slammed the door right in her face on, "Behave, Dean!"

"Soon like in an hour?" Bela called out after him with hope, waited for a while and, well, it felt awkward to be talking to the door. Sam must have been halfway… wherever he was about to go by the end of her phrase anyway. "Might as well drop him off at Bobby's," she muttered and regarded her door with annoyance, as if it could have stopped Sam by not opening or something. Wanted to kick it, too.

Growled after all and went back to the living room only to find Dean standing at the bookshelf, reading the names on the backs.

He snapped his head up at the sound of her footsteps and smiled. Then, still being Dean Winchester, with memory or without, gave her a long appraising look from head to toe. Bela's first impulse was to wrap the damn housecoat around herself as tight as possible and bind the waistband for good measure. Instead, irritated over the edge with her own self and the world in general because, seriously, this night was the craziest in her life, she put her hands on her hips, chin tipped high with a challenge, and looked him in the eye. One word she didn't like and Sam would have no one to save, she swore mentally.

"So, you're… Bela?" Dean asked curiously at last when the pause became too long.

She scoffed. To herself though because – geez! – that was pathetic, really. And insulting to a degree because, honestly, Bela couldn't even imagine – like, ever! – that Dean would be able to forget her after all they'd been though. Even because of some stupid spell. Even assuming that it was his way of life – to save damsels in distress and deal with revenge-obsessed hunters who wanted to kill his brother. Antichrist! This could rise self-conceit of Sam Winchester to high heavens! Gordon should have spent some time with the brothers before believing in such bullshit. Would take him five minutes or less to understand how delusional he was…

Well, anyway, it was creepy to look at Dean now and see… not quite Dean. So wrong! Like he was from another planet or something. Like he was expecting something from her. Whatever it was!

And she wanted to sleep! And maybe…

"My girlfriend?" The word sounded so awkward in his mouth that Bela's first reaction was to laugh out loud. Before she took in the meaning. And then…

Girl… _What?_

"What?!" He was talking about _her_?!

Her jaw dropped this time, for real, and Bela even felt that she was going to start hyperventilating. Out of shock, and indignation, and many other things all at once because, God knew, there were a lot of things in her mind she wanted to say right now, but all she _could_ do was open and close her mouth like some frigging hungry fish in aquarium. Suspected somewhat belatedly that her eyes popped out of her head not so elegantly, too, but simply couldn't help herself. So, she just started at him, eyes opened wide, blinking stupidly.

"Umm, Sam said…"

"Oh, he did, didn't he?" Bela's lips curved into a clearly evil grin and her hands balled into fists against her will.

_Sam Winchester might as well start organizing his funeral_, she thought and draw the picture of his slow and painful death in her mind. _I'll help with the rest!_

It was embarrassing. Like… _really_ embarrassing! Of course, not exactly the thing that could actually make Bela blush. There were not so many things that could, truth be told. It was her territory. The territory she knew and felt comfortable around. But…

With _Dean_, not with… Gosh!

"So, you really don't remember… anything?" Bela narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him searching for something – she didn't know what exactly – on his face. A reassurance maybe.

He looked confused and somehow lost, obviously trying to revive something in his memory. Dean Winchester she knew would never let himself look like that. In public at least. That would first of all mean immediate death to his macho reputation, which, Bela knew, he valued almost as much as his car and a collection of fake IDs, because she valued her reputation and her IDs, too. Weird how much in common they had.

"Nope," Dean shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Not even your brother?" Which was simply beyond Bela's understanding so far because of her Siamese twins theory. It was like Dean could have forgotten anything and anybody, and even himself, give or take some minor facts, but not Sam. Physically impossible!

And she peered intensely at him as if trying to take a look into his mind.

"Not even my own name," Dean assured her with a nod.

"I see," Bela drawled, her lips stretched into a Cheshire-cat smile.

_That's good_, she thought, _because this time I'm going to shoot you little brother for real the next moment I see him and you presumably wouldn't do anything to stop me. That's inspiring!_ "Okay then!" She clapped her hands, blushed slightly when Dean's brows arched again at the sight her of nightgown, which was leaving so little to imagination, to tell the truth, when the housecoat flew open at the movement. She arched her own brows in response to his glare and continued, "It's too late, or too early. Choose what you like. Anyway, we… we should better go to have some sleep now." Rubbed her forehead struggling with a wish to send both Winchesters to hell, give a call to Sam and tell him to pick Dean up before she left him at the nearest bus station or elsewhere. "Guest bedroom is down the hall," she waved her hand in that direction, but then rolled her eyes and walked him to the door, even pushed it open for Dean. "Feel like home," mumbled in his back.

"_Guest_ bedroom?" He stepped inside and gave Bela a questioning look over his shoulder.

"Well, you don't remember me!" She snapped, all insult. "You tell me you don't remember when my birthday is, honey, I swear to God I'm not gonna talk to you ever again!" And slammed the door in his face. And felt deep satisfaction after that.

Back upstairs, in her bedroom, Bela balled up under her covers with her cat purring softly at her side and finally let herself sigh with relief. Thought somewhat distractedly that she should probably have locked the door from inside but by the moment when that idea came to her mind she was too warm, too drowsy, too lazy to get out once again. Four meters to the door seemed like four miles. Besides, it would be childish, she decided. It was her apartment, her _home_, and no bloody hunter was going to make her feel uneasy or unsafe here. Not today, anyway. That was what she knew for sure. Not with Dean…

Oh, and where did these sentiments were coming from? He didn't even remember her _name_! Like it mattered now that he saved her once or twice!

Well, anyway, first things first and, speaking of safety, she literary had a gun under her pillow. And, second… Bela couldn't say that she would seriously mind an advance from Dean.

She growled out of confusion.

Angry sex with Dean Winchester was not a bad idea, not at all. With real Dean, of course. And not when Sam was throwing her at his brother like that. A _girlfriend_?! It was gross! Might as well add a red heart-shaped balloon and a teddy bear to that to make her puke. Speaking of sentiments… And there was no way of Earth Bela was going to let Sam get away with what he had done today. Not after he made her feel… _stupid_.

But still, Bela had to admit to herself – and to herself only – that it was smart of Sam, to say what he said. Aside from that part where the Winchesters shouldn't have come to her apartment in the first place, what else could he say at all? _Hey, Dean – your name is Dean, by the way, dude! – I'm going to leave you with a mercenary bitch who shot me once and tried to kill us both a couple of times!_ Which was true, but still _Ha!_ That would probably freak Dean out more than demons and monsters taken together. He must have been really scared without such details.

But he was good, Bela thought seeing the image of Dean before her mind's eye. Couldn't even imagine what she would feel in his place, with a clean sheet of paper for a memory. She would most likely believe anything and anyone! It was too horrible to even start thinking that way. Sure as hell she wouldn't be as calm as Dean seemed to be.

Sure as hell she would never let anything like that happen to her in the first place! Only a moron could let himself be hit by the spell during the ritual!

She didn't like Sam mentioning saving her life once again, by the way. That was a cheap shot! Made her feel strangely… _obliged_ to help because, to tell the truth, she held her life more that that! Bloody ten grand! Yes, she was friends with the Winchesters. Especially when it suited her. Not kind of friends to have Saturday movie nights together or whatever actual friends usually did. They were more like friends to get information from, or ask for help, or exchanger lazy banter with, or ruin each other's day. But c'mon!

Bela thought with a shade of irritation about moving to another place. She liked her apartment, it was classy, and it was up to her standards. She was comfortable here. But if Sam and Dean were going to visit her unannounced from time to time and remind her not so gallantly about that freaking ghost ship story it would be too much bother, really.

Oh, God, and what if it was nothing? What if it was just a joke? A very bad joke. A trick. Or s revenge for the damn rabbit's foot, and a stupid pirate's hand. Add Gordon Walker to the list! What if right now Dean was searching through her apartment for that priceless amulet she had or for that book with witchcraft spells, which she held in the safe? Or… worse.

Bela buried her face into the pillow with irritated moan and refused to think about any of this anymore before she became obsessed with paranoid thoughts about conspiracy theories and other insane stuff. The Winchesters conspiracy theory… And here we come!

Right now Bobby Singer was her salvation, Bela decided. She'd drop Dean off at Bobby's first thing in the morning and then move on to her own business. She added taxi services to her virtue list and finally fell asleep with a small smile on her lips.

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**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes**: These two are adorable, really :)) I hope you didn't expect me to forget about their usual bantering not that Dean lost his memory? Because if you did – sorry! :)))

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2**

She hated alarm clock. All alarm clocks in general and her own in particular. Whenever it rang, it always was too early, or right in the middle of the sweetest dream ever, or else untimely, causing a stubborn childish wish to dig deeper into the soft covers and send everything to hell, even if she didn't really want to sleep. And why didn't she turn the damn thing off in the evening? There was no need to wake up early today anyway. She could as well allow herself to sleep for at least two hours more.

Bela groped for her alarm clock and switched off the annoying beeping. She groaned into her pillow and pulled a blanket over her head, fully intended not to leave her warm and so comfortable cocoon until she felt fresh and rested once again. To hell with everything! Especially after that terrible nightmare she had that night… Besides, it still felt like her eyes were full of sand or something else that shouldn't be there.

And here they were, footsteps in the hallway.

She froze – literary – as chill ran down her spine, all alert and awake at once. She caught her breath and reached for the gun. Felt safer and somehow more sure of herself in a way only when her fingers closed around the cold steel of a weapon. Thoughts jumping like crazy in her head, she tried to come up with what to do next and estimate how much time she needed to get out of her bed, cross the room and come downstairs. Not much but…

Dean!

Bela exhaled loudly, clearly with relief, and thumped her head into the pillow with a frustrated moan.

Good news – it was probably Dean Winchester walking around the first floor area, not somebody who came to rob her, or kill her, or something like that, which wouldn't be surprising or unexpected but still not quite something she was looking forward to either. Bad news – all events of past night, vague memories of which were pretty bright and vivid in her mind, were real. Oh, and she hoped so much she'd wake up in the morning and find out that it was nothing more than a nightmare! Creepy nightmare, Bela winced. But still the one she'd simply forget in a couple of minutes. Yeah, sure, too much to hope for!

And, honestly, she'd rather it was someone downstairs she'd just shoot for breaking in and move on, than someone she'd actually have to deal with, one way or another, she thought gloomily.

Conspiracy theory came to life again, and Bela, sleepy and grumpy, crawled from under her blankets. Her cat raised his head and followed her with the gaze of his yellow eyes. She tiptoed to the door – held her breath even! - and opened it carefully a little bit, wide enough to see a staircase and a small part of a foyer, all lit with bright early-morning sun. And then a little bit more, to poke her head out. Decided to accept inevitable, as there seemed to be not so much of a choice, but wanted to make sure first that it was Dean there, because - who knew? Bela preferred to check it out while she still had her gun close at hand. No surprises, thank you!

But it was Dean, no doubt. Bela sighed at the sound of his muttering in her living room about something that she couldn't make out from upstairs, or talking to himself. _Whatever!_

She dropped her gaze to her feet when she felt her cat rubbing against her bare legs before slipping out of the room and down the staircase, tail up. Decided to check on the guest, Bela guessed. Innate curiosity.

Shower made her feel better, more alive she'd even say. Less exhausted. And compound enough not to gawk at Dean when she found him in the kitchen with a frying pan in his hand, whistling something under his nose. He shaved, definitely, and changed into a plain black t-shirt that was perfectly outlining the shape of his shoulders and his broad back. Hair a bit rumpled, but Bela didn't remember him looking any different. All in all he looked… fresh. And rested. After 3 or 4 hours of sleep?! Somebody should give a serious consideration to officially declaring it illegal for men to look the way Dean looked at 8:30 in the morning.

All she could brag about was that nice feeling caused by the fact that she was finally dressed in something that wasn't half-transparent. That was speaking about feelings. But the mirror in her bathroom upstairs also proved that she looked good too, assuming lack of sleep and overly pissed-off state.

He must have heard her coming, or maybe caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, because as soon as Bela came to the counter Dean turned and flashed his best million-bucks smile at her, all charm in the flesh.

"Hey there!" Bela wished she wasn't buying into that smile of his. Wished it wasn't changing her _rather_ pissed-off state to the _less_ pissed-off. "Um… I was hungry, and you were asleep. Hope, you don't mind…" he waved his hand indefinitely to the fridge.

_Whatever_, was what she wanted to say. First impulse. Natural reaction even. But instead, "Oh, sure, of course!" And smiled back, all teeth. Wanted to add something like _sweetie_ or _honey_ for good measure but it was so sugary sweet that the words literary got stuck in her throat.

And then… silence.

She thought it felt awkward at night to stand half-dressed before the bloody Winchesters and listening to the insane story Sam was telling her? No, it was nothing, Bela realized all of a sudden. _Awkward_ was what she was feeling right now, looking at Dean while he was cooking… whatever he was cooking in _her_ kitchen. So weird, so out of place, she thought, and couldn't help but close her eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping that the picture before them would change once she opened them again. It didn't, though. Not that she was seriously expecting for such a miracle to happen, but…

Wondered why Dean wasn't sharing her feelings. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable at all! Of course, she strongly suspected that Dean probably couldn't be uncomfortable with anything. Naturally! Definitely not in her kitchen early in the morning… But c'mon!

Bela watched him with curiosity for a while, still not ready to toss aside the feeling that all this comedy was nothing more but a part of a big plan to... do something. Expected even – in the back of her mind – that Sam would jump out from under the counter so that the two of them could laugh her in the face. Caught herself on the thought that it surprised her more when first two, then five minutes passed and nothing like that happened. Wanted to comment on lack of coffee after that because, hey, he could've thought about that, too, if he did think about breakfast. Smiled to herself and decided not to be so bitchy from the start. Sure as hell she'd have not one opportunity for that ahead.

She moved to the coffee machine to occupy herself somehow, casting surreptitious glances at him every now and again, while Dean was jumping around the frying pan and a toaster, humming the tune she did not recognize under his breath and casting surreptitious glances at her, too. And maybe she was paranoid, which was justified actually, but she still couldn't get rid of the feeling that it was a joke. No, seriously, years and years of hunting all this nasty stuff, and what? Dean Winchester should be smarter than that! A spell!

The thought made Bela hem scornfully, and clear her throat to hide it.

"So, hm, we're… dating?" Dean asked rather suddenly, but all the same matter-of-factly, as if his primary intention was to break the silence and talking about weather seemed way too pathetic. And gave Bela a questioning look.

She paused. Wondered what surprised her more – the question itself or the meaning of it. Well, the latter shouldn't be too surprising.

"Not…" _really_, was what she was about to say. Honestly, Bela hated lying just because, when there was no real necessity for it. It could get complicated once she forgot what she did say and what she didn't, and how she said it if she did… Too complicated! But – hey! – that was Sam's freaking idea, wasn't it? So why not let him deal with the mess in the end? She could have some fun too, now that they literary pulled her into this crap. Decided that a couple of random run-ins could be considered as dating, say, without details. Besides, they did go to that museum party as a couple – a _married_ couple! - didn't they? And with a smile – real, charming smile, "Sort of."

Which sounded too much as "yes" and "no" at the same time to her.

Dean hemmed at the wording of her reply but seemed to be satisfied enough with it.

Oh, this was going to be real fun!

Bela poured herself a cup of coffee when the coffee-machine beeped, announcing the end of the coffee-making process. Took a little sip and added some cream, thought for a moment and poured a splash into the saucer for her cat because he like it. Looked at Dean over the rim of the cup with a hint of amusement in her eyes. And arched her brows expressively when he put a plate on top of the counter and passed it down to her. Eggs and cheese toast. It looked… unburned and, well, edible. From outside.

"Thank you." She looked curiously at it, heard Dean smirk.

Yeah, okay, it was strange to think that someone actually cooked a breakfast for her without primary intention to poison her. And it was… nice. Unfamiliar, yes, like new territory, but still… nice. Even made her feel somewhat warm inside. It was… homey?

Theatre of the absurd - that was how she was seeing it all. Like all impossible things came together and happened at once! Had anyone told her 24 hours ago that she was going to have a breakfast with Dean Winchester after he spent a night in her guest bedroom she'd laugh them in the face, though she would appreciate the joke.

"Oh, by the way, do you know you have no beer in there?" Dean took his own plate and joined her at the counter, took a place across from her, like it was some kind of unspoken agreement between them that having a breakfast at the table in the dining area would be too… official, or something else stupid. He poked his fork into the fridge when Bela blinked at him with misunderstanding.

"I have wine," she shrugged. _Each bottle of which is probably twice more expensive than your so precious car, together with contents of it's trunk_, she wanted to add, but, seriously, what was the point in starting their usual banter if he didn't get it anyway? That was annoying, really, because all the fun from communication was Dean was in bantering. Or bickering. Or talking with guns drawn and fire flaring in the eyes.

Bela shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Whatever! Sam was gonna be back, with a charm, or a spell, or a bright idea. He'd make some passes with his hands, sprinkle Dean's head with a magic powder, read incantation in Latin and… _Voila!_ Dean Winchester, in person! His irritating, arrogant and ill-manner self again.

Applause!

Oh, don't mention it!

Maybe she would even miss this new improved Dean, Bela thought. He at least didn't try to pretend that he was better than he actually was.

Oh, Lord! What were all these sentiments about?

She'd better be as far from both brothers when this happy moment of occurred. First, she had no wish to be involved, one way or another. And second… Oh, the first was enough!

Besides, it was her chance, the luck she couldn't even hope for, like one in a million opportunity. Now that one of the Winchesters was neutralized – she should pump out of Sam which ritual caused Dean's amnesia, by the way, and try something like that once he was too much trouble for her again, which was only a matter of time, Bela was pretty sure of it - and the second one was too busy saving the first, she could finally relax and make some money without expecting any minute that two annoying jerks would jump out of nowhere and spoil everything, the way they had already done, and not once, in the past.

Bela smiled softly to herself at the prospect, calculated quickly possible income in her head, and smiled wider.

She took a bite of what Dean offered her then. And had to admit that it was not simply edible. It was tasty. Not a five-stars restaurant cuisine of course, but up to that very moment Bela seriously believed that _to cook_ in Dean-speak meant _to grab a couple of greasy burgers and some fries in the nearest roadside fast-food café, the cheaper the better_. Which wouldn't be surprising assuming the way of life of the Winchesters. One day here, another day there. Not an American dream by any rate but if they liked it – doing good things and saving people _for free_ – Bela was the last person to try to persuade them to change it.

But this new discovery – Dean's culinary talents that probably were limited by eggs and toasts - made her feel somehow satisfied, for no reason at all. She didn't like to be wrong. Even less she liked to change her opinion about people once she had it formed. But in that very case it even felt pleasant. Which was stupid, of course, and caused most likely by lack of other things to think about.

"You're making good coffee," Dean commented while chewing this cheese toast of his.

"Everything I do – or make – is good." Never a modest girl, was she?

Dean scoffed but she saw the smile that he was so keen on hiding. New territory for him, too, she realized. He was probably trying to guess what kind of behavior would be natural for him, as if it made sense to pretend that nothing happened. Maybe even tried to guess what _she_ was expecting from him.

It felt sad. And it made Bela wish to growl in frustration. She wasn't going to be too much comfort for him, for God's sake! Well, couldn't imagine him crying on her shoulder and whining about injustices of life either. And, by the way, they were together here – he had no idea what she was expecting from him while she too had no idea what she was _supposed_ to expect. What _he_ was expecting from her. Not a hug or something like that, Bela hoped.

"Hello, buddy!" Dean greeted her cat when he jumped up onto the counter and took a position near the window from where he could observe both the street outside and the two of them. And then, "Hey, Bela, lemme ask you something?"

She paused for a moment with a fork half-way to her mouth, strained inside. This was kind of walking on this ice because, hell, of course he had millions of questions, how could he not?! Everyone in his place would. And damn Sam didn't even say what part of their colorful life she was allowed to reveal and not have her head on the stake after that for damaging the remains of Dean's state of mind. Not that she really cared, ever. Just didn't want to give the Winchesters one more reason to wish to kill her or something. Like they didn't have enough of them by now.

And, damn it, Sam shouldn't have mentioned such things as lost puppies to her!

"Sure," Bela shrugged with pretended indifference. Put the bite into her mouth and started chewing carefully.

"You've got lots of occult stuff in here," Dean threw a quick look over her shoulder and into the living room, and then narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell me you're not a witch."

Bela choked, dropped her fork and it clicked against the plate. And the next moment she was laughing, and laughing in earnest. _The_ laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand as if it could help, and then buried her whole face into her palms, shoulders shaking slightly. God, this was the last thing she could ever expect him to ask. And it was so… so…

Her reaction to his words caused a smile on Dean's face too, which he tried to hide by concentrating on the contents of his plate.

And then, "What?" somewhat defensively. "It was hard not to notice, you see!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Bela muttered, still giggling. And after another rush of laughter she finally managed to pull herself together. "A girl can have a hobby," was what she said, which was not a lie but not the whole truth either. Ideal answer.

"A hobby?" He smirked. "Geez!"

"Oh, please, don't make me go through this all over again!" As if they've really been through this before! Presumably they have. And she also made an attempt to playfully kick him into wherever she might reach from her stool. Missed, and sent him laughing too.

And, as stupid as it was, it felt great!

"So, you're saying… that all these things are really… _real_?" Dean went on when he regained his ability to speak again. But his voice full of skepticism nearly led to another round of uncontrolled laughter.

Bela bit her lip to suppress it.

"Do they look like playthings to you, Dean?"

"Well…" he drawled and paused. Obviously tried to choose the words that wouldn't make Bela start throwing sharp objects at him, especially now that she had a fork in her hand. "I mean, do they really work?"

"More or less," she shrugged.

"And you can cast spells?" Looked at her suspiciously as if trying to decide whether she was kidding or not. "Talk to dead people?"

"When dead people don't mind having a little chat, yes," Bela propped her chin up with her hand, fixed her gaze on his face.

"Awesome," he grinned. Couldn't help himself, Bela guessed. "That's just awesome!" Like _the_ Dean. "But it leaves one more question. Isn't there… um, you know… enough people who're still breathing to talk to?" And peered back at her.

And it was a direct hit. Bela felt a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach, cold and uncomfortable. _You and your brother are two of a few_, she thought bitterly. Sellers and buyers aside, he was so damn right – not so many people she could actually _talk_ to. Like _talk_, not just exchange a couple of meaningless phrases. And, fine, she could admit it to herself – and forget about it the next moment because it was embarrassing for Bela Talbot to admit something like that – that the Winchesters were the only two she _liked_ talking to, _enjoyed_ even, if this word was applicable to the situations when their paths crossed. They were so sweet in their attempts to change what couldn't be changed and save the world that couldn't be saved that it couldn't slip past her. Though it wasn't mutual, and she knew it. And she knew that they knew it, too.

Not that it bothered her, this lack of communication. Not really. Years and years of experience dulled the feeling of loneliness that she used to have from time to time of the past. She had her cat, she loved him, and he was the best company she could wish for. But there were moments sometimes – rare moments, _precious_ moments - when Bela _did_ feel easy with someone, like now, and she couldn't help but think against herself that an essential part of life was probably slipping past her. Even if loneliness meant freedom and independence in the first place. And there was nothing in the world that Bela valued more than freedom and independence, money aside.

But nothing changed about her face or her voice when she spoke again.

"Enough," Bela agreed easily. "But it is a lot less entertaining, don't you think?"

Dean chuckled, his lips twitched into a wry smile.

"Wanna try?" Bela asked suddenly.

He arched his brows expressively, then gave a long studying look to the talking board on the wall, considering something in his mind.

"No, thanks!" Said at last.

"What? Are you scared, Dean?" She snorted mockingly, obviously with a challenge.

"I don't wanna be one of those jerks who seriously believe in such kind of crap, sweetheart." And he flashed a broad smile at her. "No offence."

"None taken." Bela narrowed her eyes at him, inclined her head to her shoulder. "So, I'm a jerk?"

"No," lightly, on the last bite of his toast. "But you're weirdie."

"Yeah," she sent him the most charming smile she was capable of, batted eyelashes for better effect. "And that was exactly why you fell for me, Dean."

Rule #1: the whole world could go to hell or elsewhere, but the final word must always be hers, no matter what. Besides, subtle flirting with Dean was what she liked most about communicating with him. He never was comfortable with it. Not with her anyway. And that was why it was so much fun. It made her feel better.

Though it was a bad idea to get too deep into the role because she still had to get rid of Dean before noon. Chances were she'd have to take off to who knew where in the evening if her appointment finished the way she planned. Sam had no damn right to break into her life like that and make her be responsible for Dean, no matter how desperate he was! And where the hell was the home number of Bobby?

"It's creepy, you know," Dean said all of a sudden, and brushed his hand through his short hair, made them even more rumpled. "All I remember is this dusty warehouse or something like that, and this guy, Sam, staring me like a jerk, as if he was seeing a ghost," he smirked. Bela put her fork aside and met his gaze. A moment of closeness. She could feel his desperation. Not fully formed though, but it made her wish she could block it out anyway. Wished she… Seemingly, she wished for too much! "And then we were in the car, driving… here, I suppose. And Sam was asking how I was doing every half a minute, very annoying, I must say." He paused. "But before that… nothing. Like I was born at the age of… how old I am by the way?"

"Twenty eight," Bela answered automatically.

"At the age of twenty eight, right there, in that dump of a place," he finished and shrugged, confusion all over his face.

"Not an experience one would like to live through," she had to admit, and it sounded like a very lame consolation.

"My point exactly," Dean winced.

Yeah, she sucked at consolations. Unfamiliar territory. Hoped that maybe soft tone of her voice compensated it somehow.

"Don't worry, Dean," Bela reached her hand out, wanted to cover his – impulsive comfort gesture – but changed her mind half-way across the counter between them and grabbed a tissue from the holder instead, to justify the movement that he couldn't not to notice. "Sam is a… resourceful guy. He'll… he'll think something out, I'm sure."

"Think so?" He asked, a mixture of hope and suspicion in his voice.

She smiled at him encouragingly over the rim of her cup of coffee.

"Sure, he is smarty." And added in a rush of sudden confidence, but not without sarcasm nonetheless, "Wouldn't have started a law school, or something like that, if he wasn't."

She finished her coffee, reminded herself that it was none of her business, it was Sam's and Bobby's job to deal with Dean after all, not hers, and slid gracefully from the stool under Dean's look to put her dishes into the sink.

"That's… that's cool!" He breathed out in genuine admiration. Made Bela scoff to herself, her back to him anyway. "Law school…" he added somewhat dreamingly. "So freaking cool! And he is…?"

"No," she turned to him, leaned against the sink. "He quit." Paused. "But, honestly, Dean, you better ask him if you need the details." Because she knew them and wasn't keen on digging into them right now. That was weird, to tiptoe around everything demon-related.

She changed her mind about the sink and put her plate and cup into the dishwasher.

Had it been any other situation Bela would surely never miss a chance to comment on bad karma, meaning Dean's Mom and his brother's girlfriend, or something as cruel as that, because cheap shots were what the two of them were very good at. Would also add a couple of words about Sam's reputation of psycho freak and finish with a sharp remark on vanity of their attempts to make the world better. How could they be so narrow-minded? It wasn't even funny!

But now…

Now they had to hurry up, lest she would be late for her appointment with a wealthy and promising client. A couple hundred grand was exactly the outcome of today's meeting she hoped for. And she got used to have her expectations justified.

And after that, she had a potential client for an ancient Indian death mask, presumably cursed and therefore powerful, that, rumors were, was kept in a private collection in North Carolina. And one more for the charm was already locked securely in the safe in her bedroom. He lived in California, so maybe she would have to fly there for a couple of days – and simply add travel expenses to the price of the charm. Business was business. Besides, she liked the idea of enjoying _real_ sun, and maybe she could even have a walk to the beach, watch the ocean. Prove herself that money wasn't the only source of happiness in life. That was tempting! Made her even look forward to the trip.

See? No time for looking after lost and broken hunters! Her inner Florence Nightingale took an extended vacation. Went to Hawaii probably, because that was what Bela herself wanted to do. It was not bloody likely she'd meet any of the Winchesters there.

The phone call caught her in the middle of half-formed plans for the next week.

"Sorry, duty calls," she slid past Dean, grabbed her cell phone from the counter and put on her best smile before answering, as if the speaker on the other end could see her. Added some cheerfulness to the voice, too, so it would sound like – _this call is the best thing that ever happened to me_. "Morning, mister Tyler! Didn't expect you to call but it is nice to hear you!" She gave out a short laugh at his reply. "Of course!… At three in the afternoon?" Enough time to drop Dean off at Bobby's, come back, change and drive to meet her buyer. "Sure! That's perfect!… Thank you for your call, mister Tyler. I'll see you later."

She hung up, and her lips curved into a small smile in anticipation of receiving good money before evening. She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, considering the details, and decided that she should put on that dark-blue skirt suit, it looked good with light-blue blouse and high heels. Professional and casual at the same time. She knew she was making very good impression dressed like this, all _you can trust me no matter what, I am your best choice_. If she did succeed – which she was pretty sure of – she'd reward herself with a glass of the best wine she had at dinner.

Bela looked at Dean out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to pay any serious attention to the phone call, and right at the moment he was entertaining her cat by scratching his head and throat. Both definitely enjoyed each other's company. Well, her cat surely did as he closed his eyes with pleasure and even started purring softly.

But suddenly he strained himself and his ears twitched at the sound that Bela didn't hear. Dean forgotten and abandoned cold-heartedly, he jumped off the counter and hurried into the foyer, tail up and metal plate on his collar clinking in time with his steps. Bela frowned and followed him. If it was her neighbor's dog at her door again…

Dean huffed with mock offence written all over his face at being so easily betrayed in favor of something shady, and grabbed a cookie from the bowl. "Mm, that's delicious," grunted around a mouthful of it. "Did you make those?" Asked her and helped himself to another one.

"Sure," Bela threw over the shoulder without thinking. And what was the difference if she'd actually bought that pack of chocolate-chip'n'toffee biscuits earlier that week in the supermarket two blocks down the street? She liked them, that was it! And it didn't look like Dean was going to find out somehow that the cookies were not home-made. Not that he was paying attention to such nuances anyway, she thought.

She checked on the control panel of her security system in the corridor and sighed with relief when found no sign of damage or evidence of breaking in.

It caught her off guard though, this seeming safety behind the locked up door, and that was why Bela didn't even get surprised at first when a shadow rushed past her and the next moment she was literary pinned to the wall of her corridor. An elbow at her throat and a gun at her chest, at the left side of it to be exact, right where her heart started thudding crazily as soon as she met the gaze of ice-cold blue eyes and heard a familiar, "Hello, Bela."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author****'s note:** First of all I would like to thank everyone for your nice reviews and encouragement. Can't say how much I appreciate your support, guys :))

There is not so much time left before the beginning of Season 4 and I still can't believe that Bela won't be in there. But… let's forget about that for a while now, okay? She's still my fav female character in the show, no matter what.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Luke," Bela breathed out and swallowed – as much as she could, assuming that his elbow at her throat was hardly letting her breathe at all. Not to mention that the gun, cold steel of which was making her a tad nervous. Besides, the gaze of his eyes was literary making her blood run cold in her veins. It was probably the first time in her life when Bela realized that it wasn't just a beautiful metaphor. But even still, she mustered a small smile at him – a very lame smile to tell the truth, not even anywhere close to her best. "Nice to see you."

"Really?" He ginned, the kind of grin that only touched his lips but not reflected in the eyes. They remained sharp as knives. "Likewise, Bela. And, unlike you, I mean it." Lips stretched even wider in anticipation of something she didn't want to even start thinking about. Noted somewhat distractedly in the back of her mind that she still hated that trademark ponytail of his. Wondered how Luke could be so blind to consider it charming or whatever else he was thinking of it. Stupid thought, absolutely untimely. She blamed it on lack of oxygen and exceeded adrenaline level.

"I can explain…" she began.

"Sure you can! And start please from the place where you never showed up at the airstrip where we agreed to meet. Remember? I've been waiting for you. For two hours."

Luke made a meaningful pause, even raised his eyebrows expressively. His voice was barely above whisper but Bela felt like it was getting right into her brain, as if he was shouting. Believe it or not, but she'd rather he shouted. It would probably sound less threatening to her. Plus, she still breathed with difficulty, and her back was pressed pretty painfully against the wall. It didn't let her concentrate well enough on the answers. Truth be told, she could barely think at all at the moment.

"Traffic jam," she tried to joke, and, given the chance, she would even shrug her shoulders apologetically.

Luke leaned forward even closer, lopsided grin never leaving his lips. With only ten inches between them Bela could see only his eyes and it felt like it was his gaze pinning her to the wall, not the weight of his body. She didn't like the look and what it was promising.

"Now, tell me once again, baby, that you're not scared," he whispered.

"I… I…" She swallowed again. "What do you want, Luke?"

Sure as hell it wasn't a friendly drop-in. First of all, they could hardly be called friends. And even if the were, the gun in his hand would make her doubt it anyway. Call it a subtle hint that something was not right.

"What do I want?" He repeated with mock surprise. "I want the thing that you promised me months ago. The damn rabbit's foot, Bela."

She froze. Fake smile dimmed on her face. _Ouch!_

"It's gone," she whispered seeing before her mind's eye that fire in the middle of the cemetery where her 1,5 million was burnt to ashes under amused glances of the Winchesters.

"Found another buyer? Or decided to leave it to yourself? That was a bad idea, I must say. That is not how the business is done. You should have leant it by now, with all your skills and experience!" He waited for a couple of seconds but she didn't say a word. "Anyway… Do I look like I care?"

"You don't understand…"

"What I understand, sweetheart," he interrupter, "is that I wasn't _the_ buyer, you see? And the one who wanted the damn thing so badly that he was going to pay 1,5 million bucks for it decided that I stole it and blamed it on you to save my own ass, even assuming that I brought all his money back." Luke's brows arched expressively. "Do I need to explain that no words could reassure him of that, Bela?"

Was it her imagination, or the gun really dug deeper into her flesh? Now she sucked in her belly and was holding her breath on purpose, lest she provoked Luke to pull the trigger _accidentally_. Maybe it was right about time to start panicking?

"Luke…"

"You owe me, Bela, and hell if I…"

But she never had a chance to hear what he wanted to say – only knew that it wasn't something she'd like to – because that very moment Dean poked his head into the corridor on, "Hey, Bela, what if…" obviously looking for her.

All the three of them froze on the spot. And it was hard to say who was shocked more – she, Luke or Dean. Bela clenched her teeth and took a convulsive breath. Couldn't help but wonder if it was her last one, and started feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

Dean.

His presence in her apartment completely slipped out of her mind once she saw her new guest – uninvited and not really welcomed guest, to be exact. Probably it happened because she didn't get used to having anyone around. Except for her cat, of course, but that was different. Or maybe the damn amnesia was infectious. Could the amnesia be infections at all? Another crazy thought! It wasn't some stupid flu, for God's sake!

She dared to have a quick look at Dean, saw how his face pulled.

Luke, on his side, being surely not a friend but still a pretty long-term contact, couldn't even imagine seeing somebody in her apartment. Knew she wasn't a company girl, in one way or another.

Standing as close to him as she did, Bela felt him tense. Saw him frown, too. And it was a bad sign, as far as she knew.

"What the…" Dean started.

And the next moment – Bela didn't even notice how it happened because his movements were so quick that she simply couldn't manage to catch them – Luke was first pushed away from her on, "Get your hands off of her!" and then sent to the floor by a solid punch in a jaw.

The gun fell out of his hand and flew away into the corner of the corridor.

Bela realized that something changed only when she felt that she was finally standing on her feet, not nearly hanging in the air held by Luke's strong grip, heart still thudding against her ribs, clearly intended to jump out of her chest. And, yeah, her knees were trembling a little bit and her thoughts were somehow too mixed to think straight, but – hey! – who would react any other way after being attacked in the hallway of their own house?

"Oh, crap," she breathed out after she finally managed to take a proper breath-in. Couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was still pressing against her throat.

At last Bela fixed her eyes on Luke who lay without movement while Dean was standing above him like some kind of extremely confused superhero – as if he couldn't understand how it happened that he did what he did – and yet prepared for a new attack or something. His hands were balled into fists and angrily narrowed eyes kept on burning a hole in the back of Luke's beige jacket.

"You okay?" He turned then and looked at her checking for any obvious injures.

"Yeah," Bela swallowed with difficulty and touched her throat. Well, at least it still was there where it was before, and still in one piece. She didn't like the idea of having bruises though.

The two of them exchanged worried glances and turned their heads to the limp form on the floor, none had any idea about what to do next. And it suddenly became so quite that even soft ticking of the clock in the living room seemed louder than the sound of a drum.

"Is he…?" Dean began with uncertainly but cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. Looked at her, and then at their unexpected visitor again.

Bela approached Luke cautiously, aware of a possible trap, which wouldn't be surprising, knelt beside him and checked on his pulse. Sighed with relief despite herself when she felt it under her fingers, clear and steady. He was unconscious, nothing more than that.

And then… Oh, come on! Seriously, could this day get any better? Okay, she could live with Dean Winchester in her kitchen, or her living room, or even her guest bedroom, even if it meant that she couldn't go down in her housecoat and without make-up in the morning – as much as she'd like to. She thought it was for _one morning only_ and hence it seemed okay. And, honestly, she had no problem with the Winchesters breaking into her place whenever they wanted expecting that she'd take it as a birthday gift. They could do whatever they wanted, she didn't care. And that was fine because – hey! – wasn't she the one who never played by the rules, too?

But what Bela needed and expected least of all was her extremely pissed off former contact who dropped in with an utter wish to rip her head off her neck because of an old story, which she thought was long forgotten. Luke was smart and, unlike Dean and Sam, he was very dangerous. Like, _deathly_ dangerous. And vindictive, too, to tell the truth. Sure as hell he wasn't going to let her get away with that this time, especially now that he had a golf-ball sized bump on his head and a nasty purple bruise all over the left side of his face.

"No," she said quickly to Dean and shook her head. "No, you just knocked him out." _Without a wince_, added mentally, in total awe. "He'll have a hell of a headache when he wakes up though. And we…" she looked up at him, "we'd better get out of here… before he wakes up. Now!"

"What?" Dean blinked, even dropped his jaw in surprise, and started dumbly at her. "_We_ go and _he_ stays? Did I miss something?"

"Damn it!" _Don't make me hurt you!_

Bela grabbed her jacket from the peg and the car keys from the drawer. She needed time to think it all over, to come up with something logical because, speaking from experience, she knew that it would be a mistake to act on emotions. Knew she'd regret about it later.

Restoring her breath would be a good start, she decided. And after that she'd think about how to make Luke believe that he was interested in leaving her alone.

Despite her worries, Dean seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, too. It was her nervousness that affected him, probably. At least when Bela reached for his hand to drag him out of her apartment he was wearing his jacket and holding the backpack he came with yesterday in his hand. He probably had left it somewhere here because she didn't notice him retreating to the guest bedroom. Although in the state she was in, she wouldn't probably notice the whole herd of elephants running though her living room. Hell, with her thoughts jumping like some crazy grasshoppers in her head she'd miss a lot more than a herd of elephants! Thank God, Dean wasn't asking any questions because Bela knew that he could start right away – and she couldn't even blame him for that! - and wasn't sure she wanted to deal with them at the moment. Truth be told, she was in no mood for _anything_!

She picked up Luke's gun on the exit, lest he was armed when he woke up with a wish to put a bullet in her head without a second thought, and slammed the door. Good luck with finding her arsenal!

"Give me that!" Dean grumbled down in the garage and snatched car keys from Bela's hand when she failed to insert them in a lock for three times in a row as he fingers were still trembling slightly. Then he pushed her rather unceremoniously to the passenger's side door and took driver's seat himself before she could object.

Bela scowled and pursed her lips having a couple of words ready to slip out of her mouth but obeyed nonetheless. Not that she had a choice. They were running out of time and, truth be told, she was in no condition to drive. But she still clenched her teeth and tried to keep her face hard and gloomy anyway, as an indication that she didn't like him being all bossy. Dean didn't seem to pay any attention to it though. So, Bela fastened her seatbelt, folded her arms on the chest and turned away. Tried to ignore his, "How can anyone drive THIS?! It's like a freaking cycle on four wheels!" while he was adjusting the seat position to his height and driving into the light of the street.

It was insulting after all! Bela liked her car. It was new. It was comfortable. It was fast. And look who was talking here! A guy whose car was nearly twice older that he! Geez! The thought made Bela wince and scowl even deeper.

"I can't believe we left him in there," Dean muttered, and added, "In your place," as if his words needed specification.

Bela gave him a look out of the corner of her eye, registered deep crease between his eyebrows and a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and explained, "I _forgot_ to switch off the security system. Police will be there within five minutes. Seven at most. Believe me, it is the last thing that he needs." Paused. "They'll keep him occupied for a little while."

_And after that there will be nothing that could save me from Luke's rage_, she added mentally.

Great! That was just great, to say the least! And what was she supposed to do about that? Show up all of a sudden with a smile and _I'm sorry_? Oh, please! She might as well commit suicide on the way, the result would be the same.

Luke wanted the damn rabbit's foot. That very rabbit's foot that no longer existed for several months already. Thanks to the Winchesters! Another sidelong glance and a frustrated sigh followed. No, seriously, maybe they woke up one morning and decided – Why wouldn't we mess up somebody's life? Say, for fun. And then they met her – Lucky girl! And then – Why not? Yeah, that was probably how it happened, Bela thought darkly.

And today… Why? Why would Dean find it so necessary to knock Luke out? She liked that he did it, though. Not that he knocked Luke out - because that was a really, really bad idea - but that he reacted this way. Bela didn't remember anyone ever protecting her like that, obviously without thinking or weighting pros and cons. And he _was_ worried back then. Even if he looked rather pissed off right now. It felt different. Somehow strangely… _nice_. But he _did_ mess everything up!

Chances were she'd feed Luke some crap – a smile here, a promise there, she was good at both after all – and they would be friends again! Maybe be even before he actually throttled her to death. But – hey! - he wanted something from her, so it was unlikely he was intended to actually kill her. Maybe. The rabbit's foot she couldn't offer, true, but there were other things she could. Lots of them. Not as valuable, of course. Unfortunately she didn't have anything similar at hand or within a phone call's reach at the moment. But she'd come up with something. She surely would… If Luke wasn't lying unconscious in her apartment! That was definitely something he'd never forget. But, damn it, she was in no mood for radical measures, didn't want to kill him or something. She'd prefer Luke simply forgot about her… Which started seeming pretty doubtful.

"So, don't you want to tell me what was that all about?" Dean broke the silence after a while. Made her nearly jump on the seat actually, as Bela, being too deep in her thoughts, managed to forget about his presence. In a way.

"Not really," she replied and rolled her eyes in irritation at his frown. "Unfinished business. Are you happy now?"

"Not really," he mimicked her. "This guy, whoever he was, had a gun!"

"He had this gun at _me_, Dean!" She snapped. "Do you think I might not notice that little fact?"

"He could've killed you!"

"Really? Wow! That thought never occurred to me!"

Bela leaned back into the seat and pursed her lips. Wished she could cross her legs, too, all _don't you dare talk to me or I'll bite your head off_! But there wasn't enough place for that in her car, in _any_ car, so she simply huffed for good measure. Hoped he'd get the hint.

He didn't.

"And that's it?" Dean kept on shooting quick burning glances at her, which Bela kept on pretended she didn't feel with the back of her head. "Some heavily armed freak shows up at your place and that's how you take it? Like… like nothing happened?"

"Like nothing happened?" She gasped. "Well, what do you want me to do? Start whining around?" Bela made a funny face at him. "Start _crying_? _Faint_ maybe?"

"That would make sense! You know, normally people never break into each other's houses just because! This jerk back there did! So, he did it for some reason. And that leaves a question…"

"Oh, shut up, Dean, please!" She interrupted him, all annoyance. Ran her fingers through her hair nervously and then finally bothered to look out the window. "Where are we, by the way?" Tried to recall for long they've been driving around and failed. For about half an hour or so, she guessed. What time was it, anyway?

"Do you really expect me to answer?" He scoffed. "No idea. Haven't seen anything familiar so far. Oh, wait! Could I at all?"

Yeah, sure. Bela sighed. It was easy to forget about Dean's memory loss now that he was almost his old arrogant self and she had another problem or two to worry about.

"Turn here," she poked into the road sign when a vague plan formed in her mind. Okay, half-formed, but she was working on it. And now that they were driving anyway, it made sense to drive _somewhere_.

Dean obeyed without a word. Gave her a meaningful frowned look though, obviously displeased, and concentrated on the road. Maybe it was Luke's gun in her hand that bothered him? Bela didn't care. Not really at the moment. But she didn't feel comfortable with the weapon herself, so she wrapped it into the handkerchief and tucked it under her seat. Felt better this way. And – shocker! – literary felt that it eased Dean's tension, too. Well, if the way he kind of relaxed in his seat and eased his grip on the steering wheel was any indication, of course.

--

The scenery outside the window changed as soon as they left the city with its endless blocks of monotonous grey buildings. First they were replaced by cozy suburbs with their small clean houses, neatly mowed lawns and garden dwarfs near the porches, and then by endless rows of tall trees along the highway, green and fresh at this time of the year.

Silence in the car was getting more and more pressing with each mile that they were leaving behind. And the longer it lasted, the fewer opportunities there seemed to be to end it. Bela considered turning on the radio or one of her CDs – had a whole collection of them in the glove compartment - but once she literary froze on her seat with her arms folded on the chest when they were leaving New-York, she didn't dare to move ever since. It felt somehow wrong to disturb that stillness as if one single motion could crash that seeming serenity into pieces.

"I can drive, if you want," she offered after another twenty miles or so when Dean turned off the highway to the side road following her directions.

Not that she wanted. It felt nice to be a passenger, not a driver, from time to time. But, well, she saw that he wasn't quite comfortable at the wheel of her girlish car. Bela didn't think that it was girlish though, she thought it was her best choice.

But Dean obviously did. Who would think he was so conservative about such things? Even now. He surely felt uneasy, looked like he was waiting for the chance to run away and would use it the moment he could. She had to admit that driving Impala suited him more. Bela remembered that look in his eyes when he was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel of his '67 beauty in time with whatever horrible music he was fond of. He looked like he was ruling the whole world. The memory caused a small smile on Bela's lips and she turned away so that Dean couldn't see it. Right at the moment he looked like… like he was actually riding a four-wheel cycle. But Sam took his bother's car, so they were out of choice.

Dean smirked. Gave her a quick look out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. "I'd rather you told me where are we going instead."

"To a safe place, I hope."

Bela tried to connect with Bobby several times, but his cell phone was switched off, and when she dialed his home number voice message on his answering machine offered her to leave a message. Bela hated talking to inanimate objects, so she kept on dialing both numbers every now and again hoping that sooner or later she'd get lucky.

Tried to call Sam, too. Called him first actually, wanted to tell him that she seriously screwed up and inform him that he'd chosen a very lousy babysitter for his brother. It wasn't too late to change his mind though, and that was exactly what she was hoping for. But wherever Sam Winchester was at the moment, he was out of reach as well. How sweet! The level of trust that he was demonstrating by this was almost flattering. She'd surely take it that way in any other situation. And what did he mean by saying that he was going to be back _soon_? Before the end of the world? Oh, that was promising indeed!

So, when the phone finally rang in her hand, Bela nearly jumped to high heavens, out of surprise more than anything else. Good for her the seatbelt was fastened, otherwise she'd strike her head against the roof. Heard Dean hem but preferred to ignore it.

The phone number on the display was unfamiliar. It made Bela hesitate for a moment. Normally, she wouldn't talk to a stranger. Simple precaution. But her own number was not easy to find either. So, it could be a new contact, or a potential buyer, or a seller, or just someone who got a new number because their phone was stolen or something.

She pushed the connection button at last praying like hell for hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line. Maybe he had a low battery and borrowed the phone from someone… That sounded stupid even in her head but knowing the Winchesters it wouldn't be surprising. It was pretty doubtful they were capable of surprising her at all.

"_Hey there, sweetheart!_" Luke. Well, she could have guessed he'd show up, just didn't expect it would happen so soon. "_What made you take off so suddenly?_"

Bela took a deep breath before answering, struggled to keep her voice firm.

"Well, I don't know! Maybe that was your gun at my chest or that rather threatening tone that you used while talking to me. Breaking into my apartment could be a good reason, too. Feel free to choose what you like most!" She could almost see him turning red with outrage at her words. "Besides, I had a lot of things to do," added lightly, checked on her nails. "Always a busy girl, you know."

"_Oh, I know!_" Luke agreed. "_But we didn't finish our conversation_."

"Well, we can do it now," Bela offered willingly.

"_I prefer a face-to-face communication better_."

"Sorry to disappoint you," she sighed with feigned regret. Heard Dean hem again and wished she could kick him or something. Unfortunately, seatbelt quickly ruled that out. "As for me, I feel better this way, Luke, with miles and miles between us. More comfortable for sure. How did you manage to avoid the police, by the way?"

Luke gave out a short laughter.

"_I didn't actually. Still enjoy their company_."

"Oh!" She paused. "So, that makes miles and miles, _and_ an iron bar, right? That sounds even more… comfortable, you know."

"_But they were nice enough to let me make a phone call_," he put in.

"And you called me? Aw, I'm flattered! Seriously, I'm beside myself with happiness." She exchanged glances with Dean and felt somewhat relieved when she saw a small unbidden smile that he was trying to hide. Knew he was listening intensely to every word.

"_And I'm beside myself with surprise. Messing up with hunters now, are you, Bela?_"

She turned to look at Dean once again, wanted to check if there was something like _hunter_ written across his forehead. Found nothing but curiosity, and decided that he would be flattered like hell when she told him how famous he was. Wondered whether it was just their reputation or the Winchesters managed to cross Luke's path, too.

"Times change!"

"_Tell me that!_" He scoffed, but then his voice changed at once, became cold as ice and firm as steel. The voice like that couldn't promise anything good naturally. "_I'm not finished with you, Bela. And with that Prince Charming of yours_."

"Be nice to your new friends out there, Luke," she instructed him before hanging up.

Bela clenched her teeth and took a deep breath to regain her calmness once again. Looked at her cell phone with displeasure as if blaming it for the call she didn't like. It was pretty doubtful that Luke was going to stay where he was now for long, no matter how much he liked the company. No matter how fitting he was in there, she added. Several hours at most. Then he would find a way to get out. Or he would find help. Whatever! And after that… Oh, Bela didn't want to think about what there gonna be after that! Nothing she couldn't handle, of course, but who would look forward to such kind of pain in the ass?

She turned and caught Dean's questioning and expecting glance. Oh, prefect! If he was waiting for her to explain him anything…

"Problems?" He asked.

Bela paused. He had no idea… _Problems_ was the softest of all possible words that could describe the situation. As for her, she'd choose _disaster_ instead.

"No, it's nothing," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll give him whatever he wants and we're the best friends forever again." Not the rabbit's foot though, and that was bad. But wasn't there enough powerful magical objects that she could obtain? More than enough, and that was good. "Forget about it, okay?" She asked and smirked when Dean scoffed at the double meaning of her request, considering the obstacles. "It's none of you business," she pointed out firmly.

"No, it is!" Dean objected right away. "If you're…"

"Oh, spare me!" Bela interrupted him, rolled her eyes. And then peered intensely at his profile. "Just do me a favor, Dean, make it clear for me - did Sam really say so?" Kept her voice light just in case, and accompanied it with a smile, all innocence. "That I'm your _girlfriend_." Because, honestly, that looked pretty doubtful. More doubtful than any another impossible thing she could ever imagine.

Dean hesitated for a moment.

"Well, he said _friend_," he confessed at last. "But, seriously…" Looked meaningfully at her. "What kind of _friend_ would let us in in the middle of the night? And the two of you didn't look like there was something… Besides," he added quickly when Bela opened her mouth to reply – well, she gasped actually, but it definitely looked like she was going to say something, "you didn't say I was wrong! Did you?"

And that was true! The thought even made Bela blush a little. But still…

"Didn't want to ruin your hopes, sweetie, when I saw that fire in your eyes," she assured Dean, all sugar, and batted eyelashes at him for better effect. Considered blowing him a kiss for a second or two, but decided that he didn't deserve the honor. And felt somewhat warm inside from realization that Dean was still Dean, still over-grown ego and self-conceit.

But slapped him in mock indignation on the shoulder anyway. The seatbelt still wasn't letting her do anything more than that.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, but it was laughter in his voice, not anger or something. "Don't you think it's a freaking bad idea to disturb the driver?"

"Watch the road!" She snorted as they drove into the small town and headed for the Main Street, or whatever the central street was called here.

She knew it! She knew Sam couldn't naturally say something like this, and she was right after all. The thought made Bela feel nearly proud of herself, for almost no reason at all. She doubted Sam could even imagine anything _that_ horrible as his brother and their mutual enemy being in… She cut herself off before her thoughts moved further in that direction. Whatever! Sam had problems with forgetting that little scratch from her bullet on his shoulder, for God's sake! Too serious, too narrow-minded, she decided. Too… something, that Dean wasn't. She would speculate the idea though, mention it to the smart boy once or twice whenever she had a chance, just to piss him off. How could she not if it was so easy?

It was Dean who turned on the radio at last. He gave her a questioning look – still aware of the gun under her seat – but relaxed when caught a tail of a small smile on her lips.

"So… Seriously, Bela, is there anything…" he started.

"Turn here," she pointed at one of the small streets, then flashed her best brilliant smile at him, all teeth. "Let's leave it to your imagination for now," offered mysteriously and gave him a long and expressive look. "Here," she poked at the house that was standing somewhat aside from the others, fenced off by the trees from being observed from the road.

Dean pulled the car over at the gravel driveway and looked skeptically out the windshield at the building before him. It didn't ring a bell, Bela understood, if a blank expression on his face was any indication. He wasn't impressed by it either. She wouldn't be too, truth be told, if she was in his place. The façade should have been painted a decade ago and the lawn hadn't been mowed for a couple of years at least by the looks of it. From where she was watching, the porch seemed old and squeaky, and, well, sort of weary as if Bobby didn't really cared. Maybe he didn't. Anyway, it wasn't her type of place for living by any rate. But it was their final destination for now. And Bela didn't like the way it looked.

Abandoned.

Empty.

She left the car though and slammed the door. Stopped halfway through the driveway and looked expressively at Dean over her shoulder. Gestured at him with a wave of her head to join her. He rolled her eyes, but unbuckled the seatbelt and left the car, too. Paused in his tracks to have a better look at the house and the trees – almost a real forest - around. Smirked to himself.

"Tell me that the general idea is not to kill me and leave my body here, so that no one could ever find it," he chuckled as he joined Bela at the porch.

"It wasn't, but now that you've mentioned it…" she drawled – out of wish to tease him more than anything else - and pretended to be considering the possibility of his offer. And then jumped away laughing when Dean tried to grab her, not quite seriously, too. A-a-and sweet sixteen made their return! Geez!

Bela waved her hair away from the face and started at the door once whey they made their way up these three squeaky steps. Yeah, she was right about _squeaky_ after all. She took a look inside the front door window and rapped her knuckles against the wooden surface.

* * *

**To be continued…**

**PS Notes:** For those who didn't understand, Luke was the guy from "Bad day at Black Rock", remember? Bela talked to him on the phone before Dean showed up in her apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note**: So, I'm leaving for a vacation, for the whole two amazing weeks! Spain, I'm coming :))) But how could I leave without posting another chapter? I surely couldn't, and here it is.

The next update will be in about 3 weeks or so, give or take a couple of days, but I hope you're gonna be patient. And I also hope you're gonna like this chapter.

Generally, this fic is intended to be about relationship development, secret dreams and sacred wishes. About Dean and Bela getting to know each other - something that they never had good chance for - from the start. My vision of softer side of Dean, which he never reveals in his normal state. And I hope that those of you who like action and fights won't be disappointed too much. Don't hold it against me, please :)) And please tell me what you think because it matters a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Bobby, are you here?" Bela called out just in case if his inhospitality was for the strangers only. She wasn't a stranger. Not a complete stranger. "It's Bela." Waited. "And Dean," she added when it occurred to her that she might not be the most welcomed guest in this place. Didn't remember being welcomed anywhere, but, well… what did they call it? Side effects? Right! Very exact definition!

No sound came from inside.

Bela started counting in her mind. Old habit. She used it in the past to learn to control time – vital skill with a job like hers. And it also helped to pretend that she got hold of any situation. Strange, but it never worked when she couldn't fall asleep though, Bela thought. Counting sheep wasn't her salvation from insomnia by the looks of it.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen...

Nothing happened.

Oh, no, no, no! It couldn't be happening! Not now! He should be at home! Must be! Where else could he _possibly_ be if not here?! As far as Bela knew, Bobby Singer was some sort of information service for the Winchesters, helped them whenever they needed some help and stayed away from major hunting most of the time. She took it like he retired or something. Probably decided to stay alive for as long as he could. Which made sense of course. She couldn't blame him for that.

"Bobby?" Bela slapped her palm on the door once again.

It didn't seem like he was going to open. It didn't look like _anyone_ was going to open. Still, she wasn't keen on giving up that easily. Chances were he was asleep, so logically it made sense to check on the back door... Oh, who she was kidding? Everything was wrong from the start, so why would it change now? Not bloody likely!

The thought made Bela growl in frustration.

"Nobody's home, I guess," Dean commented. He leaned against the wall, hands tucked lazily in his pockets, and kept watching her manipulations with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Thank you, Dean!" _Like I haven't noticed it myself!_

Perfect! What other bad things were planned for today? Tornado? Broken nail maybe? Bankruptcy of the bank where she was keeping all her money? She wouldn't be surprised, honestly. Had she been wearing heels, she'd definitely break one somewhere along the way, maybe even both. And why wouldn't somebody come out and list them all, so that she was prepared when they started happening?! Thank God she wasn't wearing heels!

No, _this_ was the perfect time to start panicking, Bela thought with irritation.

"What is this place?" Dean questioned and looked into the living room window, which was facing the porch, too. "Who's Bobby?"

"A friend." _Of yours_.

Bela chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.

She needed to be a hundred miles away from here in several hours, wearing her best business suite and ready to offer the terms that her buyer would gladly accept. She needed to contact another buyer by tomorrow noon. And she also had to find out what to do with Luke once he was out of jail or wherever he was now, and on her tail, which, she knew, wouldn't be a big problem if he wanted it really bad. Oh, and what was the most exciting – she desperately needed to find a place to stay for a while, at least until she came up with a way to get rid of Luke. Some place where he wouldn't track down her credit card or something.

Bela looked at Dean out of the corner of her eye. He removed himself from the wall and right at the moment was occupying himself with studying half-dead window plants that grew in terracotta pots on the outer windowsills.

She rolled her eyes trying to guess how badly Sam would hurt her if she left his brother here and moved on with her own business. On one hand it was tempting. Feed Dean some stupid story, leave him here to wait for Bobby and inform Sam on whereabouts of his brother whenever he graced her with his phone call. Fair revenge – if this was an appropriate word – for their sudden appearance at her place.

But even before the thought formed fully in her head, Bela knew that it wasn't going to work. Aside from the part where she didn't give a damn about Sam's reaction to her leaving his precious Dean all alone, she didn't feel right about it anyway. Of course, she didn't care much. Why would she? Yeah, they saved her. So what? She hated it that they kept on reminding her about that every time they could. Such gentlemen! And still… She was a bitch and she knew it, and was truthful enough to never deny it. Was even proud of it maybe. Money-driven and self-seeking bitch because – hey! - that was life! But she wasn't a heartless bitch! Dean Winchester was a major pain in her ass ever since they met. Mocks and wits and teases were what Dean considered himself good at. Bela didn't share his opinion. Officially. Lest he would think that she liked him or something. She didn't. Not even a little. Not even anywhere close. But she wasn't a heartless bitch all the same, and she couldn't just leave him alone like that. It was too cruel, even for her. Because the thing was - Bela seriously doubted that had she been in Dean's place – God, save her! – _he_ would leave her. Probably.

Or…?

Whatever! Seriously, why would she care _at all_? She wouldn't be in this desperate situation if it weren't for the Winchesters in the first place! She'd get her 1.5 million back then, several months ago, and… didn't have any idea about what could possibly happen next but sure as hell she'd have one problem less right now…

And how on Earth was she supposed to make an intelligent decision with such a mess in her head?!

"Dean? Can I have your cell phone for a sec?" She reached her hand out, palm up, waiting for the requested object.

"Why?"

"Because," made a funny face at him. "Just give me the damn thing!"

Dean hemmed when Bela snatched the cell phone unceremoniously from him.

She lowered herself onto the upper step of the porch and started studying its contents. And wasn't it a dream come true? Something she'd pay good money for a couple of weeks ago. It was even better than finding a treasure. More useful surely. She should copy it to her cell phone some time, Bela decided. She checked on missed calls, voice mail and SMS first hoping to find something from Sam. Missed call would do at the moment. Anything! Well, Sam obviously didn't call, at least over the last 24 hours. And, honestly, it didn't look like Sam, Bela thought. Not that she was worried. Surprised, more likely. What the hell was thinking this irresponsible, little…

She sighed to herself, gave Dean a sidelong glance and moved on.

Opened the phone book and… Aha! Wasn't Bela Talbot a lucky girl? Found the whole three phone numbers of Bobby Singer's, compared to two that she had. The third one was unfamiliar to her. Some secret number, she guessed. For the Winchesters only maybe. The thought made her lips curve into a wry smile. Not so bad of an idea, only she'd do it opposite way – have a part of her life closed to the brothers.

Anyway…

Bela dialed the number, hoping… for something, who knew what. For Bobby to answer for example; for something else good. Anything. And her expectations were justified. In a way. Not exactly the way she hoped for though. Another message, but at least an informative one this time: "_Hey there! If you dialed this number you know who you're trying to reach. I'm in Kansas at the moment. Be back by the end of the week. Feel free to leave a message. I'll call you back as soon as I'm back to civilization_." The end.

The voice was Bobby's, no mistake.

By the end of the week?! But it was only Tuesday today! _Tuesday_! Not even Thursday! The end of the week in Bobby-speak could mean any time from Friday morning till Sunday evening, which seemed like a whole lifetime ahead. So, it meant that she was stuck with Dean for a while after all! Good news – she found out why Sam decided to drop his brother off at her place. Because Bobby was unavailable. But wait! What was so good about that?! This knowledge didn't make her feel better.

Bela stared down the driveway but generally into nowhere. It felt strange. As if something sucked all the thoughts out of her head and left nothing but vacuum in there. No bright ideas. Not even one little decent hint.

"What?" She asked Dean when he lowered himself next to her.

He looked somewhere past her car, too. And then, "Well, um… if this guy Bobby, whoever he is, is not at home and if you're finished here… What do you say if we go somewhere and grab some coffee?" And looked expectedly at her.

"Coffee?" Bela blinked at him. Thought somewhat belatedly that it might look quite dumb from Dean's point of view. Reminded herself that she should probably get used to Dean being not quite Dean, but still pretty much Dean all the same. Oh, it was complicated!

But, well, now that her initial plan, which involved some serious help, or at least assistance, failed and she didn't have a better one so far, she was in the starting point once again. If not a step back, Bela thought rather gloomily. And that meant that anything would do at the moment. And coffee was no so bad idea after all.

--

They had no problem with finding a diner in the town. The one they dropped in was decorated in the 60s-style. It was cozy with its white lace drapes on the windows, red-and-white checked table-cloths on wooden – not plastic! - tables, soft leather settees and this special smell of fresh coffee and crispy waffles with maple syrup topping. It looked cute, homey in a way. A place where one would like to come for breakfast every once in a while, and wouldn't be surprised to meet their friends or neighbors sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee and a morning newspaper. Definitely a place to share or learn new gossips, find out some local news, or just have a lazy meaningless chat about the weather.

The diner wasn't overcrowded at this time of the day, but wasn't empty either. It felt like this particular diner had a steady flow of clients from early morning till late in the evening, both locals and tourists. A couple of men at the counter and a bunch of teens at the table in the corner were enough to create a background noise that characterized all similar places. Never-ending chatter. And even considering that Dean winced a little bit at the sound of music coming out of jukebox, which Bela failed to identify at once, she liked the place anyway, to some degree. It wasn't exactly her kind of place, but rumors were that the pancakes served in such diners were a lot tastier than any exquisite dish in her favorite restaurant in Manhattan.

She couldn't say that for sure because the last time she'd been in a diner was…The memory made Bela wish to giggle right away. The last time she'd been in a diner, she was serving coffee to the Winchesters. A hell of a coincidence indeed!

Bela threw a surreptitious look at Dean who snatched a laminated menu card from the holder on the table the moment he sank into the settee and right now was studying it thoroughly with an overly serious expression. Oh, she wished he did remember! Wished she could remind him about that and see how his face changed… That was real fun back then! So much easier than she could have ever expected! Well, on the other hand it was good that Dean didn't remember that. Less threat to her health and life.

"King-size burger with double cheese," Dean read aloud. "How does that sound to you?"

Bela looked at him over her own menu, hemmed and left his question unanswered.

With breakfast still being not yet in the past and after Luke's attack her stomach kept on clenching uncomfortably and she couldn't help but wonder how Dean managed to even think about anything food-related at all. She sighed. What did she expect? But she buried her face into the menu all the same in order to occupy herself somehow.

"Chose anything?"

Both jerked their heads up at the sound of the voice.

Dean's face lit up immediately with that boyish smile of his, which revealed those charming dimples on his cheeks. These very dimples, which all female species from 5 to 70 were falling for without a second thought. He knew about it – must have! – and used it shamelessly whenever he could. And hadn't the waitress been plump and old enough to be Dean's mother, and hadn't she been wearing this absolutely ridiculous apron with strawberries, Bela would have found it offensive. Insulting even!

"Royal Burger, please," he drawled looking at - what was there written on the badge? Gladys? - with absolute adoration. "This _double cheese_ offer of yours sounds like _yummy!_"

"It is indeed!" She assured him. "Royal Burger and…?"

"And coffee. Black. No sugar." Which sounded very much like _I'm sugary sweet enough myself to compensate it_.

"One Royal Burger," she scribbled in her notebook and beamed back. "And American coffee. Ma'am?"

And Bela saw that the waitress tried to save the smile when she turned to her. She really did. But it wasn't the same smile as the one she gave to Dean moment before, and it made Bela scowl inwardly and grit her teeth in frustration. Although she mustered some resemblance of a smile in return, which probably looked more like an evil grin, had there been any chance that it reflected her feelings.

"Just coffee. With cream. Thank you!"

The woman – Gladys – nodded. She and Dean exchanged their stupid secret smile again – like they knew something that Bela didn't – before she left, and Bela had to resist a wish to kick him under the table. _Accidentally_! Or maybe not even so accidentally. And ask innocently if the two of them would like her to leave them alone, or something.

And what the hell was that?!

Bela snorted to herself, gave Dean another burning look and got back to studying the menu again, like there was something that could interest her at all. Why would she care if their waitress was young and blonde and resembled Pamela Anderson? She wasn't, but still! It was none of her business! Even if Dean decided to flirt with every single waitress on the way. Like she gave a damn! She surely did _not_! And this dissatisfaction and grouchy mood was _surely_ caused by her rather lousy morning, and night, to tell the truth. And by the fact that she was stuck with one of the hunters for who knew how long. With one of the _Winchesters_ – feel the difference! Nothing more than that. It wasn't _jealousy_ or something else ridiculous, for sure! No way on Earth!

"You might as well picked something," Dean said after a while.

"I'll pass this time, thank you." She met his gaze, held it for a couple of seconds, and disappeared behind the menu again. And – _ugh!_ – it was so childish!

"What are we going to do now?"

_We_. Oh, Lord, now there was _we_ between her and Dean Winchester!

"We'll wait for your brother to show up." Bela tried to keep her voice calm and speak patiently. It was not that hard to pretend that Dean was like some five-year old indeed. Speaking of mental development…

"Here?"

Good point! It was highly doubtful they could spend a week in the diner of some long godforsaken town, even if Gladys served them pancakes for free. Bela shook her head in order to clear her thoughts and refused to even fear that it would take Sam so long to find cure for his brother's amnesia. She could make a phone call or two, too, of course. Check if she managed to come up with something faster herself…

But she wouldn't! Because Dean wasn't _her_ brother and his amnesia wasn't _her_ problem. Why would she make it easy for them, anyway? Besides, she was curious where all this might lead in the end. She'd prefer to be a side observer, truth be told. But no one bothered to ask her opinion on the matter.

"A-a-and, here it is…" Gladys appeared at their table once again. "One Royal Burger," she put a plate before Dean, and it became clear at once that when they said _King-size_, they meant it! Damn burger seemed to be nearly as big as the plate it was lying on. Bela wondered how they managed to add those fries there, too, and even make them hold somehow. Wished she could check if they were glued or something, and missed the moment when her own cup of coffee was placed before her. "And two coffees." Gladys looked at the table with satisfaction, like some Mommy who cared for her kids to be well-nourished. Well-_stuffed_, by the looks of Dean's early lunch. "_Bon appetite!_"

Dean followed her with his gaze until she disappeared in the kitchen behind the counter, and then caught Bela's look at his plate.

"Now I bet you've gotta regret you didn't order something like that!" He commented, all self-satisfaction, and gave his burger a long appraising look. Definitely liked what he saw.

"You can't eat all of that. No one can!" Bela snorted, and then, following some impulse, grabbed a couple of fries from his plate. It was the smell that seduced her, she decided.

"Hey!"

"Manners, Dean!" Looked reproachfully at him. "Don't make Gladys comment on your behavior," pointed out with mock seriousness. "What would she say if your girl starved to death?"

"You said you weren't my girl," he reminded around a mouthful of a king-size bite.

"I didn't," Bela objected. Grabbed some more fries and finally checked on her coffee, which surprisingly turned out to be more than good. Almost perfect, she'd even say. Fine taste and – Mmm! – killing smell. It made her feel better. "I didn't say anything specific actually. I'm too insulted by you forgetting me to say _anything_."

"It wasn't my fault," he shrugged.

"Whatever! Give me the ketchup," she ordered, and then, "would you, please?"

"My pleasure!" Dean drawled on his best smile.

And Bela had to do her best to keep her own smile to herself. Made a sip of her coffee, lest he would see her lips stretching against her will.

If Dean noticed something, he didn't show it. Thank God!

Anyway… It was right about time to make some decision, now that she was in charge. Kind of. The thought made her cringe all the same. She was _responsible_ for Dean Winchester! Oh, Lord, it was the most ridiculous thing that could have ever happened to her! The most ridiculous thing to even think about.

But first things first! She moved tissue holder and pepper pot aside, took out the map that she found forgotten on the back seat of her car and unfolded it under Dean's curious gaze. He even seemed to forget for half of a second about his burger, Bela noticed with a smirk. She found New-York and traced a rout they had made with her finger, and stared thoughtfully at the name of the town they were in at the moment. Was relieved to find it one the map at all.

And then…

Bright idea came unexpectedly but seemed so logical and clear, as if it was a light bulb and somebody pulled a sting to turn it on. Like in some stupid cartoon, Bela decided all of a sudden, and nearly giggled at the strange comparison. Baneful influence of communication with Dean Winchester for more than thirty minutes. Well, it was probably Luke who pushed her to the thought in the first place. But it didn't really matter now.

Bela looked at Dean out of the corner of her eye. He'd kill her. Maybe. But it was so damn tempting…

She wanted to check on John Winchester's container with mojo stuff in Buffalo ever since one of the guys she'd hired to retrieve that rabbit's foot for her called and asked which of the boxes she needed. He said there were at least half a dozen of them. With all kinds of very valuable things, Bela understood back then. Otherwise no one would bother to keep them there, securely locked and guarded. Half a dozen! Which might mean one to six millions of income, approximately. Actually, she needed one thing only now. Could take one thing only with Dean around, to be exact. The thing that would make Luke leave her alone. But she'd like to have a look at the rest, too, to know what she'd have to come for later. Unsuspected. Or send somebody for.

And – hey! - they couldn't go back to her place now anyway. Luke would check it in the first place once he was out. If he hadn't already been. And there still were no news from Sam so far. So, theoretically speaking, this plan was as good as any other. At least this one was useful, lest she would waste her time for nothing while Sam was entertaining himself with research or… whatever else he could possibly entertain himself with now that he was free from Dean's company.

The prospect cheered Bela up, made her even look with hope into the future, which now seemed a tad brighter than five minutes ago. She even smiled _the_ smile when Gladys came to their table again to ask if they wanted to order something else.

"No, thank you. The bill, please," Bela answered for the both of them before Dean even had a chance to open his mouth, and realized somewhat irritably that she would probably have to pay for the both of them all the way thought this little adventure. Reminded herself to demand ever cent from Sam in the end and felt better.

Dean surprised her though by fishing the wallet out of the pocket of his jacket. But then it was just a diner, a place that even _the_ Dean could probably afford, even on the worst of his days. Although Bela doubted that _the_ Dean would gladly accept it with her around. He would most likely start whining in that inelegant manner of his about her welfare, which was essentially better than his, ever, and try to wiggle out of footing the bill, one way or another. This Dean wasn't _the_ Dean, and that made Bela feel good and bad at the same time.

"Who do you think Chuck Lawrence is?" Dean asked all of a sudden.

"Who?" Bela snapped her head up and saw him studying one of the credit cards. She took it from him and her lips twisted into a sly grin on the will of their own. "That's you, I guess," she replying giving the card back to him, her eyebrows arched expressively.

Dean blinked at her. "What?" Looked at the card and then at Bela again. "I thought my name was Dean Winchester."

"It is."

"Then, how can you explain…?" He didn't need to finish the sentence for her to get it.

"It's a long story," she said with _you-surely-don't-wanna-know-the-details_ expression on her face.

"And pretty criminal by the looks of it," Dean chuckled and tapped the card on the table. Looked at it again and gave Bela a cheeky smile.

"Why, aren't you a smart guy!" She drawled, and added. "Don't worry, it will probably gonna work if you use it."

"Using cash seems somehow safer right now," he snorted and dug into the wallet once again, studying its contents with interest. Bela stole a quick look into it, too. Registered at lest five other credit cards and wondered if at least one of them had _Dean Winchester_ carved on the plastic surface. "Hey, Bela, check this out!" Dean caught her attention by handing her a small, wallet-sized photo.

Bela took it and felt her lips forming into a smile against herself the next moment she laid her eyes on the image. Crazy-looking Dean and Sam in the cabin of automatic photo, 4 for one dollar. They probably made this picture somewhere on one of numerous gas stations they'd been passing through some time in the past. Sam was laughing and his hand was rumpling his brother's hair. And Dean made a funny face with his eyes popping out of his scull and his tongue stuck out. They looked so childish… so unexpectedly happy. Laughing. Bela could almost hear the sound in her head. She had never seen them looking anywhere close to this picture. Never. Didn't even think they could, with Sam always being so serious and Dean so unreasonably grouchy every time they ran into each other.

She shook her head feeling something warm forming in the pit of her stomach. Some unexpected tenderness maybe, or something very close to it. Didn't expect to see that part of the inside life of the Winchesters. Didn't expect it to be… like that. So strangely… _normal_. Bela tried to block it out and yet couldn't help but think about how everything would be for the Winchesters if their mother didn't die the way she did. If they never came across anything supernatural in their lives. Sam would become a lawyer, of course. It was so easy to see him in her mind's eye dressed in expensive black suite and surrounded by serious colleagues. He'd have an imposing car, cozy two-storied house in a suburb, beautiful wife and a couple of cute kids. And maybe a golden retriever named Sparky.

And Dean… Um, Dean would be… Damn, it was impossible to even imagine Dean being anyone but who he was how! Maybe it would be easier if Bela didn't know about monsters herself. But she did, and it was kind of changing her vision of the world in general and Dean's role in it in particular. That's why thinking of Dean Winchester having a house and a job 9 to 5 made her wish to laugh out loud hysterically. And also made her wonder how he was seeing his normal life, if he even dared to think about it at all. Well, he probably did. And kept this stupid picture in his wallet as a reminder that he and Sam were not some sort of monster-killing robots or something.

"Bloody hunters," she muttered under her breath, which actually came out as a whoosh before she realized what she was saying. And the next moment she was praying in her mind for Dean to miss it. He didn't though.

"Hunters?" Peered curiously at her, his head inclined slightly to his shoulder. "What do you mean? Sam and I… we…?" He blinked. "Are you serious?" And Bela could have sworn that she'd never heard him sounding so skeptical before.

She swallowed feeling rather confused. _You can do it, Bela. You can. And watch you mouth next time!_

"Yeah," she flashed a smile at him and handed the pictured back. "For rare species." Which was very close to the truth and hence didn't require pretending. "Sort of. Um… kinda weird hobby of yours."

"Really?" Peered at the picture again, more intensely this time. "Wow! That sounds so… so freaking awesome, you know." Gave Bela a quick look and got back to studying the photo right away, smiling despite himself. "Which makes me wonder how did we meet?"

"You and your brother?"

Dean raised his gaze to meet hers.

"You and me."

Bela made an effective pause to heat his imagination and impatience, and gave him a long and meaningful look through her eyelashes accompanied by a cat-like smile. "I was for Green Peace."

Dean grinned at her, all _Do I look like some damn fool to believe that crap?_

"So," she slapped her palm on the table, voice all business, "what do you say if we have a ride to Buffalo?"

"Since I don't' have any idea what the hell you're talking about and where this Buffalo is, I don't care," Dean shrugged. He stuffed the credit card and a photo back into his wallet and put it into his pocket. Looked somewhat regretfully at his empty plate but took the end of lunch with manful dignity. "Not that I have any other plans anyway."

--

"We are lost!" Bela stated and pursed her lips with a dark frown.

"We are definitely not!" Dean objected immediately, without a second's hesitation.

"Yes, we are!"

"No, we are not!"

"Dean!"

"Jesus!" He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. Gave her a quick displeased look. "What on Earth makes you think we're lost?"

"We haven't seen a single gas station, or a motel, or… or a road sign for over 60 miles already!" She snapped out. "That's not right!" Paused for a moment. "You shouldn't have turned to that road in the first place," grouched pointedly and folded her arms on the chest.

"What?!" Dean gasped in indignation and nearly let go off the steering wheel for a moment. "It was your idea to turn!"

"No, it wasn't!" Bela whipped her head round, eyes flaring.

"Yes, it was!"

"No! It. Was. Not!"

"You told to turn off the motorway," Dean reminded her. "Remember?"

"I said that maybe it wasn't a bad idea to take a short cut," she specified, all dignity, as if the difference was fundamental. And tipped her chin high in self-assurance.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying," he agreed.

"No! I gave you an _advice_, but you're the driver, right? Which was your idea, by the way. You might as well ignore it and keep moving on."

"No kidding?" Dean chuckled, genuinely amused. "Oh, the road is lo-o-ong, and driving is so bo-o-oring. And the car is so hot, and yet so co-o-old! And, hey, did the time stop?" He mimicked her in a high-pitched girlish voice.

Bela jumped on her seat.

"I never talked like that!"

"Oh, yeah, tell me that!" He scoffed. "I'd ignore you and you'd bite my head off!"

"Don't flatter yourself!"

"Or keep on whining for miles," added thoughtfully, as if considering what would be worse.

"I _never_ whine," she hissed.

"Well, I didn't want to push my luck anyway," he returned in exactly the same voice.

Bela clenched her teeth, insulted to the core and snatched poorly abandoned map from the dashboard, fully intended to blame everything on Dean and his stupid natural inability to navigate. Being lost somewhere in the middle of the night wasn't her idea of fun. Thanks a lot, but no! She buried her face into the crazy intertwining of red, green, yellow and blue lines, symbolizing everything from highways to country roads, and tried to define their position at the moment.

"We should have passed a dozen turns at least by now," she mumbled in grouchy voice at last. "Have you seen any?"

"Hey, I was following your directions!"

"Yeah? And what if I asked you to drive off the cliff or into the tree? Would you follow my directions, too?"

"Is that a warning?" Dean smirked. "Should I beware of something like that?" Bela gave him a heavy look. It was way beneath her dignity to react to such offensive supposition, one way or another. "Whatever," he muttered in the end. "Anyway, it's just a road! It will lead us somewhere… sometime."

"Oh, and where does this optimism come from?" Bela snorted with obvious sarcasm.

She made herself comfortable on the seat, wrapped her arms around her shoulders and started of the windshield at the seemingly endless road swearing to God not to say another word for another hundred miles. At this rate they might make it to Buffalo alive. In silence, total and absolute silence. Music was allowed though. _Her_ music! She didn't care about Dean's preferences at the moment. He might as well go to hell with his likes and dislikes. It was her car and…

And her car suddenly slowed its speed down on terrible coughing sounds and stopped with a jerk at the roadside in what seemed to be the darkest part of the damn road for miles. A dim streetlamp ahead of them was too remote – about half of a mile from where they stopped – to be of any use at all, and the one that they left below the kink was not visible at all, leaving impenetrable darkness all around them. The engine died out even before the car stilled, together with headlights, and radio, and who knew what else.

"What's going on?" Bela frowned anxiously, shivered uncomfortably.

She wasn't going to talk to Dean any time soon. Surely wasn't intended on breaking the silence first, but it was that case when there seemed to be no other choice.

"No idea," Dean muttered and then turned to her. "When was the last time you filled up the tank?"

**To be continued…**

* * *

**PS A/N: **Maybe it is a lousy promo, but in addition to the story I also uploaded my new Dean/Bela video. You can check it out here /watch?vSg96Rb6I3zc if you want

:)):))


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes**: About 3 weeks – just like I said :))

I'm finally back from vacation, which was fantastic. Spain is a very beautiful country. I enjoyed the sun and Mediterranean Sea… and I got back just in time to catch Season 4 premiere! No comment about it though, spoiler-free territory… Um, spoiler-free for Season 4 :)

Thank you all for your nice comments and for being patient. I finished this chapter during my vacation. Hope you're gonna like it. Warning – fluff ahead! :D

Reviews are always appreciated ;)

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"It is full!" Bela said dryly, insulted by his supposition that she could be stupid enough to forget about something that important. The tank of her car was always filled up, thank you! Like _really_ always! In case of some emergency. Like the one that happened this morning. Oh, good Lord, was it still the same day? Time stopped indeed!

Dean hemmed. He lit the dashboard with the display of his cell phone and studied it carefully.

"Half-full, actually," smirked at last.

"Whatever," Bela growled. "It isn't about fuel, or lack of it, anyway."

She scowled and huffed loudly in frustration. Thought that right now she was probably resembling a teapot that was about to start steaming, and whistling, too. And an overheated teapot it was indeed. That was just great! No, seriously, would this day end ever? Now they were not only lost on some stupid road which she didn't even manage to find on the map - they were also stuck there for who knew why and for God knew how long. Past experience made Bela wonder with growing panic if the damn road did exist at all, or maybe they had just got in some kind of time and space loop. It was crazy and she didn't want to even start thinking about anything that bad, but couldn't quite control the flow of her thoughts in that direction.

"Apparently."

Dean gave her a look, which Bela couldn't identify in the darkness, and got out of the car. Half of a minute later the hood of her car was up and a dark form of her traveling companion dove into the very heart of her baby. Oh, God help her, she had already started thinking like Dean! It was just a car, not a… a… an object of affection, or something. Was he infectious or what? Was she going to become similarly mentally ill in a couple of days? Well, Bela didn't think that way. Not really. Only when she was annoyed over the edge. But still!

She rolled her eyes, irritated with herself, with Dean, with her car that found no better time to break, with all damn situation in general, and finally got out, too, out of curiosity more than anything else. It was highly doubtful that she could be of any use in dealing with technical side of repair anyway.

The air was cool and Bela wrapped her jacket tighter around herself as the wind turned out to be stronger than it seemed to her from inside. And it was so quiet and dark around that she thought – rather seriously - that somebody, or something, turned off the light and sound. Chill ran down Bela's spine, made her look around uneasily and shiver against herself. She came up closer to Dean.

"Got a flashlight?" He asked.

"Do I look like I have a flashlight?" She snorted and looked somewhat thoughtfully over her shoulder at the streetlamp ahead. It didn't look very promising but…

Dean scoffed and she could have sworn that his lips twisted into a smirk, even if she couldn't see his face, or anything else, aside from the dark form against the silver color of her car. "No," he conceded with a nod, dove under the hood once again but straitened himself with a sigh almost immediately.

"So," Bela cleared her throat and shifted from one foot to the other, "what is it?"

"Honestly? No idea! Can't see a friggin' thing."

He slammed the hood with a thundering _bang!_ which echoed creepily in the trees, and shook his hands off the dust.

"And… what now?"

"We'll wait for the daylight." Dean shrugged and leaned against the hood.

He might have as well hit her with something heavy – like a brick or a baseball bat – on the head, and still the effect wouldn't be anywhere close to what his words caused. Seriously, _what?!_

"What?!" Geez, she nearly jumped on the spot, whirled to him with lightning speed. And if a burning glance could kill like a bullet, Dean Winchester would be long lying dead on the cold ground. "You've gotta be kidding me! Tell me you're not serious."

"Look, I don't know what he hell is wrong with your car. It's not my job to take care of that Barbie stuff." He rolled his eyes. "Call to your mechanic, or something. You surely have a mechanic." And had it been _her_ Dean, he would definitely wince, _definitely_ with despise.

_Oh. _

"Um… yeah, right, my mechanic…" Bela agreed hurriedly, wondering why she didn't think about that in the first place, then snatched her cell phone out of the pocket of her jacket and flipped it open. And then, "Very funny, Dean!" on slamming it closed again.

"What?"

"_What?!_ Where _are_ we?"

"Somewhere on I-something," he yawned. She _heard_ it. And she had never been this close to a cold-hearted murder in her life before.

"Prefect! My mechanic lives in New-York! I can imagine how happy he will be when I wake him up in the middle of the night and ask to check my car that got stuck _somewhere on I-something_." She growled in annoyance and leaned against the hood of her car too, right next to him, arms folded on the chest, both staring blankly down the road now. "How much time do you think he might need to get _here_? Let's give him an hour and a half, and then we can start panicking."

"Got any other ideas?" Dean sounded too skeptical for the one who was actually expecting to hear an informative answer, which made Bela scowl harder. Did he really think that she couldn't come up with something of use? Well, yeah, not now. Unfortunately. But… _at all?_

"Are you sure you don't know how to fix it… whatever it is?" She asked with hope – after she managed to swallow about one hundred other words that were very close to slipping out.

"Tell me one thing," he tucked his hand into the pockets of his jeans. "Do you see anything around? I mean _clearly_."

And she did look around wondering what the hell he could possibly be talking about. Saw nothing interesting though. Well, saw almost nothing at all, to be exact, except for the trees and the pitch-black moonless sky covered with low clouds.

"Well," Bela drawled with uncertainly, "not much. Why?"

"That's my point, and an answer to your question, too."

What the… Was that a joke?

Meanwhile, Dean slipped back into the car. She followed him inside right away feeling that she had already started shaking in the wind, even could hear her teeth chattering. And her fingers were cold as ice. She could barely feel them.

"We can't stay here!" Bela said firmly as soon as the door slammed behind her, and it sounded very much like an order - _Do something!_

"Well, what do you suggest, Bela? Walk to the nearest motel?" He snorted. "Should I say that it's a bad idea or wish you good luck instead?"

She slumped back into the seat and folded her arms on the chest with stubborn determination to do whatever it took to get out of this place as soon as possible. Wished she knew what that could be, and wondered how soon another car would pass by. This year or the next? "I'm definitely not sleeping here!" Added for good measure, lest Dean thought that a bunch of crap would satisfy her._Should I say that it's a bad idea_, she mimicked him mentally. Like hell!

--

Bela Talbot hated sleeping in the car, her own or any other. Of all the things that she didn't like to do, spending a night in the car was in TOP 5 of her personal Dislikes List. Hated sleeping anywhere, which wasn't a bed, actually. Not that it was a usual experience – thank God! – but sometimes life was sort of not leaving her any other choice.

Just like now, for example.

And this was that very case when any comfortable transport was literary turning into a medieval torturing chamber because no seat, no matter how good it was for driving, could be anywhere close to what a simple horizontal bed in any cheap motel would be, even assuming possible scratchiness of the linen, pancake-flat pillow and – ugh! - bedbugs. She winced with disgust at the thought.

Not to mention that Bela Talbot never stopped in cheap motels.

Cursing everything and everyone under her breath, she moved her seat away from the dashboard hoping to stretch her legs, and yanked it back as far as possible. Tried to pretend that it was as good as any other surface that she might have been using for sleep tonight.

Saw out of the corner of her eye that Dean did the same with his own seat but refused to comment on it one way or another, or even look fully at him. Resisted a scoff, too. Instead, Bela leaned back with a sigh and closed her eyes. Ordered herself to fall asleep right away, as if it really was that easy.

And it turned out to be the most ridiculous idea ever. The seat was harder than it seemed before – how did she manage to drive for hours?! - and very far from being flat, and the shape of its back made her neck cringe – no surprise here! - and hurt like hell after only two minutes of lying like that, with her eyes shut tight and her arms folded on the chest and practically clutched on her shoulders because she had no idea what else to do with them. Put them behind her head? Pretend that she was on the beach? Geez!

Moreover, Bela liked to sleep on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest and, well, the width of the seat – and the car in general – ruled that out immediately. She let herself kick her shoes off though – to hell with everything! And it made her feel better… for the whole thirty seconds, before she realized that her suede jacket was the worst thing to sleep in in the world. The best thing to wear, it was too tight in the shoulders when she was lying and a tank top that she was wearing underneath it was slipping upwards or twisting uncomfortably around her torso every time she dared to make the smallest move. She could take it off, of course, but then she'd freeze to death way before falling asleep, which wasn't the best option.

She listened to Dean settling on the neighboring seat for a couple of minutes. He muttered something under his breath but it was too quiet for her to make out the words. Shuffling of his cloths against the seat followed, and then everything went completely still. And it became so quiet all of a sudden that Bela even caught her breath instinctively, and then, when she couldn't hold it for much longer, started taking small and shallow breaths as if scared of breaking the silence.

Wondered if Dean felt the same, but almost laughed out loud at the stupidity of this thought. It was highly doubtful that such nonsense could bother Dean at all. But he didn't move – at least Bela didn't hear anything – and his breath was deep and steady, and, seriously, she wouldn't be surprised – like, at all! – if it turned out that he fell asleep the same moment he close his eyes. This supposition nearly forced Bela to cough, or say something, or kick him _accidentally_ to wake him up. Why did she have to stay awake suffering from terrible discomfort alone?

Bela sighed softly. She rolled to her right side – as much as she could with the seat not being completely flat and her jacket stiffing her movements – and rested her head against the plastic surface of her car's interior which, had her car had four doors instead of two, would be a back door's handle. God, it so-o-o uncomfortable!!

What time was it? A little past midnight? So, it was only some six or seven hours to wait. What could be easier? And so exciting, too! A long walk in search for a motel, or gas station, or something else stopped being so bad idea all of a sudden.

It bothered Bela that her car got broken. So untimely! Yeah, like it could be timely. It bothered her even more that they were still using her car instead of leaving it somewhere in favor of something a tad less conspicuous, say an old rental atrocity. She didn't like the idea but Luke was no fool, and Bela wondered how much time he would need to track down her car. And what bothered her most of all was that she had to cancel an important meeting earlier that day because she couldn't make it in time, nor could she bring the artifact she promised to Mister Tyler as it still was locked in a safe in her bedroom and obviously she couldn't return to her place any time soon.

Oh, it was her worst day ever! Became the worst long before that little accident, actually. And now she was having the worst night, too. Well, right after the previous one when the Winchesters stomped into her life with the grace of drunken elephants. Her bad luck started with that, as if the brothers were some damn black cats that surrounded her, with all the ensuing consequences. Bela thought somewhat mischievously that it would probably help if she got rid of Dean. Her life might be back to normal then…

She nearly moaned in frustration wishing like hell to have a soft pillow to bury her face into instead of hard as rock headrest under her head and her purring cat by her side. Blanket would be welcomed as well. She tried to relax – ha-ha! – hoping it would help her feel a little bit better but, hell, it still felt like a very cruel torture! As if someone tied her arms and legs and locked her in a suitcase. Like some frigging mummy or something.

Unable to stay like she was any longer, Bela rolled over to another side, even put an arm under her head as a pillow – a very poor imitation of a pillow actually – to make her position somewhat more comfortable for her neck. Wondered if she'd have it crooked till the end of her life. And sighed again, totally despite herself. Wondered how much time had already passed since she checked it the last time and how much she had ahead. Thought with annoyance then that at this rate she wouldn't make it through the night. Alive, or in her right mind.

And then there was, "Can't sleep?"

Dean's voice almost didn't surprise her, at lease she didn't startle at the sound of it.

"Sort of. Can you?"

Bela opened her eyes and saw him lying flat on the back with his hands coupled on his stomach, staring sightlessly into the ceiling, as if really _could_ see anything there. He gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and got back to studying whatever he could possibly study above them.

"Not really," Dean replied, a mixture of snort and sneer.

She watched the outline of his profile on the seemingly lighter background of a window for a while. It was the darkness, she thought, that let her usual guard down, or that utter silence all around that was making an impression of their complete loneliness in the whole wide world, but the situation appeared to be slightly less desperate and annoying all of a sudden – at least she was not alone, and wasn't that good? Even the seat stopped being so terribly uncomfortable. Well, not much. But now that it turned out that Dean wasn't anywhere close to being asleep, despite what she thought before, Bela was too curious to think about anything else. That was not a bad distraction, truth be told.

A moment of strange closeness between her and Dean Winchester. She nearly giggled at the concept. But it seemed somehow wrong and out of place, so she bit her lip to hold it.

"Can I ask you something?" She whispered instead; tucked one leg under herself to turn fully to her left side so that she could see him better. Not that she could see much at all – the expression of his face stayed hidden - but she could pretend, and it was all she needed at the moment. And, God help her, why was she whispering?

"Uh-huh."

It came out as a whoosh but Bela took it as agreement nonetheless. "How does it feel, Dean? Not remembering."

And… Oh, Lord, did she really ask that aloud? Because, really, she was thinking about it, and thinking a lot. Ever since she saw that puzzle look in his eyes and, hey, he stopped glaring at her as if she was some kind of greedy and heartless monster, the way _the_ Dean tended to. Which she couldn't blame him for, but c'mon! Attempted to try it on herself even. But ask it like that? Now? In a _whisper_?

Well, not that it was a big question after all, and she was curious, too. It just seemed a little… strange to have a heart-to-heart with Dean. Like – seriously? Dean Winchester?! Besides, she genuinely wanted to hear an answer.

He didn't respond at once. Actually, didn't say anything for long enough for her to wonder if he'd heard her at all.

"Weird," Dean said when Bela had already started weighting pros and cons of repeating her question. Tried to decide what part of her was stronger – curiosity or common sense? Didn't come to an answer that would satisfy her though because she was sleepy and it all seemed a tad not real. Meanwhile Dean settled himself exactly the same way she did, with his arm under his head, looking her fully in the face. "Creepy. It's freaking scary to look in a mirror and see a stranger there." His voice was louder than whisper but softer than his usual full-volume speech. Made Bela wonder in the back of her mind why sharing secrets or whatever they were sharing –moment of closeness? – required using indoor voices anyway. Or wasn't it darkness to blame? "You know, it's like you have no idea about who you really are or who you used to be." He paused, probably waiting for her reaction but Bela didn't say a word, out of fear to say something wrong in the first place. She just kept on looking at the pale stain that was his face against the blackness of everything else around. Saw – or thought that saw, she couldn't say it for sure – his lips twitching into a wry smile before he moved on, "Feels like you don't belong."

It made her swallow uncomfortably.

"Doesn't sound like an experience one would like to go through," Bela said at last, using the same voice as Dean, when she found no better words. Her mouth suddenly went dry.

"Yeah, not exactly a wish to make over a birthday cake on blowing the candles," he admitted somewhat bitterly. Or mockingly. Bela didn't understand, and doubted that he did either.

"I'll remember that," she said not able to keep her own small smile to herself.

She felt a soft brush of his hand against hers, like he was asking for some comfort and offering it at the same time. It was a tad unexpected, and it nearly gave Bela a start in her rather distracted and quite drowsy state, but it felt warm and pleasant anyway once his palm covered hers. So strangely meaningful. Bela could literary feel his energy streaming into her body through that touch making her melt all over that stupid car seat.

"It's gonna be okay," she said before she realized that it was comforts she was offering in return – before she realized how embarrassing it was – and for the first time in the last thirty minutes she mentally thanked God for lack of illumination because otherwise Dean would probably see her blushing and there hardly was anything in this world more awkward than that. "This is how it usually works, with you and Sam." Thought for a moment and added. "This is how it _always_ works with the two of you, actually."

Which was true. Something might go not exactly the way the Winchesters expected, but all in all Bela never heard about utter and complete failure. A scratch here, a bruise there. A scar on Sam's shoulder from her shot most likely, she added. Wounded pride from time to time - like when she so easily manipulated the brothers into stealing the pirate's hand from the museum so she could sell it for a very good price later - but all on smirks and wits all the same. It made her even fell nearly ashamed for remembering something that Dean didn't.

He was looking somewhere past her shoulder for a little while, although Bela knew that there could be nothing interesting there. Checked it earlier herself. Well, it didn't seem like he'd see anything even if he could, all lost in his thoughts. And when his fingers entwined with hers it felt like they were moving on the will of their own. And it felt so… so _something_.

"You can be freaking snarky at times," Dean said, his eyes fixing on her face, and she could feel smile in his voice. "And, honestly, most of the time you are."

"Thank you, Dean!" Bela scoffed. "You're making lousy compliments, you know that?"

"But it is kind of nice to be stuck with you," he finished.

And it _was_ the best thing she could've heard.

"More exciting, you mean?" She couldn't help but snort in order to ignore the lump in her throat caused by his words. "You have a strange idea of having fun, I must say."

He laughed softly, and Bela inched forward surreptitiously, as close to him as her seat allowed, returned the squeeze of his hand and sent to hell and logic and common sense that she might still have left.

"Had you been anyone else, I'd think you stopped in this deserted place for a reason," she added, out of wish to tease him generally. "Now tell me, Dean. Did you do it on purpose? You and me. Empty road. _Broken_ car," with a stress on "broken".

"Is that a subtle hint that I should take advantage of the situation?" He arched his brows, made Bela caught her breath for a moment. "Or not so subtle, I've gotta say."

"Oh, my!" She gasped in mock shock. "I can't believe what I hear, swear to God! After all these times you finally got it! Now, isn't it a day to remember?"

Oh, like she could ever forget it anyway!

"Aw, come on! These must have been very lousy hints!" He objected defensively - sounded insulted even - and made Bela giggle.

She broke the contact of their hands to loop a stray of hair behind her ear and then found his fngers in the darkness once again, prompting something like a deep exhale from Dean. But maybe it was her imagination. Or a coincidence. _Whatever_, really!

The movement surprised her. Meaning, it wasn't that necessary or something. She could have used an urge to check on her hair as an excuse to pull back for good. Maybe even turn away and say _Good night_ and pretend that she was seriously expecting to have a _good_ night. But… but it felt so nice, and warm, and… and great. And it wasn't happening for real anyway, Bela reminded herself, was it? With Dean not being quite himself and, well, no witnesses around. So, why not? Why wouldn't she let herself feel so good for once? Juts now, only this time. Technically speaking, she deserved it like no one else.

"Listen, Bela, I know that all this friggin' crap is untimely and everything," Dean's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and, yeah, drowsiness that she was steadily sinking into. "Sam and I at your doorstep, and… And I know that you…"

"It's good to have you around, Dean," she interrupted him knowing exactly where this all was going. And not wanting to have him say something that would make them both feel awkward, one way or another. "No idea how I would handle it on my own," she added in a voice that was only slightly above whisper, and Bela wasn't a hundred percent sure whether she was saying it to Dean, or to herself. And did it matter? She meant it. Like, _really_ meant it! To her own surprise. "But if you ever tell anyone I said so, I'll make sure your death is not quick and painless, Dean, I promise."

"I'll keep that in mind," he chuckled.

"And don't tell I haven't warned you," tacked on, lest he thought she was kidding.

And then – for many reasons, such as a couple of sleepless nights and overly rich with events day – Bela suddenly felt extremely tired, as if after running a forty miles marathon or something like that. Her eyes closed by themselves and her mind started drifting away, making her thoughts mixed and cloudy. She could still feel the warmth of Dean's touch, his fingers playing lazing with hers as if teasing her with a possibility of breaking the contact. But the never left, making her wish for more, like to _never_ leave, or something else similarly stupid.

She listened to him breath, deeply and slowly, not more than a foot away from her. Closer than at an arm's length. So much closer than she ever let anyone to be. Or maybe it was her own breath. She couldn't say. The fact was that if felt strangely safe and weird in a way, as if what was happening was not wrong, not at all, although it definitely was.

"Bela, that guy in your apartment… What did he want from you?" Dean's question broke the train of her thought.

She didn't open her eyes, only let out a small sigh. Knew from the start that the question was coming, sooner or later, didn't she? Strange that he waited for so long actually. Across the whole state! Shocker! Trust Dean to try to find out what he wanted to know without waiting for an extra second. Human nature of the Winchesters. Of Dean Winchester particularly. Well, human nature in general, truth be told.

But no matter how wrong the situation was all in all, it still didn't feel right to answer him the way Bela planned to from the start. Wanted to send him and his curiosity to hell at first and maybe even threaten with… well, she'd think something out along the way. Changed her mind about this tactics, though.

And what she was losing anyway? It wasn't a big secret that she was involved in criminal affairs. It didn't make sense – and Bela knew that common sense that she had was enough for two people – to start trying to hide such essential part of her life, now wasn't it? Dean with memory knew it. Dean without memory did, too. Sort of. If he didn't lose his brain as well. So what was the point in making a fuss about it? Not that she could graciously wiggle out of answering. Not that she wanted to make an effort to. Trapped that she was, Bela was starting to think that she could use any help. She did before. It did work. Might work now, too.

"I owed him one thing," she breathed out in the end. "He came to claim it. In that special charming way of his," added with a chuckle.

"Such a sweetheart," Dean muttered barely audibly. "And what about this… _thing_?"

"Actually, I don't have it anymore, for quite while a while already," she confessed rather unwillingly. "So, presumably – and I don't have to be a genius to guess that – Luke will be pissed off even more once he found it out."

Shut up, you fool! screamed the voice inside of Bela's head. And wasn't it common sense she was so proud of? another little evil voice added. What the hell do you think you're doing? What is this? A game? Like hell! When this all is finally over, Dean Winchester will have enough information to blackmail you for the rest of your life! He'll ride off into the sunset in that stupid car of his, with his so beloved brother, without so much as a second look back only to pop in from time to time to make your life miserable, or worse!

But, hey, she wasn't going to become the best friends with him – ironic as it was but the Winchesters _were_ the closest thing she'd ever had to friends. Hunters? Geez! Didn't know what to about it though. And knew that neither did they. Honestly, she'd die if Sam and Dean ever found out that she was thinking that way. And the fact that she did enjoy Dean's company didn't mean anything. Didn't _have_ to mean anything.

And – c'mon! - she could always blame his knowledge about her business to his _not so his_ state of mind, couldn't she? Say that it was his imagination, or a hallucination, or a bad dream, or something else stupid, which he would have to buy. She _could_ be persuasive.

So, instead of listening to her inner voice and turning away, Bela tightened her grip on Dean's hand. Just a little bit. Not like she was clinging to him or something – no way! – but maybe it was some kind of appreciation, which she actually was feeling at the moment. Still new territory. It meant something to her. She just needed time to figure out what exactly.

So many things to figure out! And why all at once?

"So, what now?" Dean asked.

"I'll come up with something. Will think something out," she responded feeling that her eyelids became so heavy that she probably wouldn't be able to raise them ever, even if it was a matter of life and death.

"In Buffalo?"

"Maybe." And after a pause, "Don't think about it, okay?"

As for her, she surely couldn't' think about anything being halfway into the dreamland already.

"I can't."

It came a tad muffled, as if he was screaming from miles away. Bela blamed it on her sleepiness.

And that was it. A simple _I can't_ that made something squeeze almost painfully inside of her. Which make her feel warm all over. And literary forced her wish for more… something. Closeness, maybe? And, yeah, it wasn't for real – because, hey! how could it possibly be? That was Dean. He hated her! Or despised. Or both. And only a fool would take it seriously. And Bela Talbot was no fool. She definitely knew better than that.

Yet… did it really count now, here, in this stupid small car with no one around them for miles? Besides, honestly, it wasn't about Dean Winchester particularly. It was about someone – anyone, to be exact – who cared. So what if right now it was Dean? It might have as well been… Well, no one came to mind right away.

Bela started falling asleep. Heard Dean saying something to her, something that made her smile even assuming that she didn't make out the words. Figured out that she'd like them though. Or was it a dream already? His touch and heat of his body wasn't, although… She had already had this dream before, or dreams actually, and it was easy to admit something like that when she was sleeping or half-sleeping, and wasn't quite herself – because who would be in her place? Her previous night was terrible and an absolutely awful day followed, so why wouldn't she dream a little – just a little – now?

_--And when the rain begins to fall_

_You'll ride my rainbow in the sky_

_And I will catch you if you fall_

_You'll never have to ask me why._

_And when the rain begins to fall _

_I'll be the sunshine in your life_

_You know that we can have it all _

_And everything will be alright_.--

* * *

**To be continued… **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** Hi, guys! Thanks for your reviews and comments and for not giving up on reading my stuff :) Hope you're going to enjoy this chapter too! And remember, reviews are always appreciated :))

* * *

**Chapter 6**

His lips were soft and warm, and the touch of his hands was gentle but not at all unsure. Bela felt them traveling up and down her arms pausing every now and then while his lips were tracing the outline of her mouth, gently and slowly. Everything was exactly the same way she imagined before and maybe a little better, brighter, more vivid definitely, but all the same so deliciously sweet that she anything but purred…

And woke up with a start on the loud _bang!_ and ear-tearing squeaking of the tires. The sound was so deafening and unexpected that Bela nearly jumped on the seat and… And finally took in the situation realizing several things at once. First of all, her stupid dream about Dean Winchester was still a dream and nothing else because instead of kissing her in her sleep he was standing outside the car and waving farewells to a quickly departing dark-green Rover. And it was so Dean-like not to care that slamming the damn hood shut wholeheartedly, the way he did, would wake her up even if she was in coma.

Bela growled mentally but – face the truth! – being mad at Dean was as good as being mad at the wall or something.

The second realization was that the morning finally came – yahoo!! – as the sun was shining brightly right into her face. Strange that it didn't wake her up long before Dean and whatever he was doing out there. And what the hell was he doing there with her car anyway? Might have as well woken her… with his kisses. Oh, that was a very, very embarrassing thought. Bela shook her head to wave it away before her cheeks pinked.

And this was when the third discovery – the most unpleasant one – revealed itself. No matter how sweet her dreams were – if any dreams about arrogant, annoying, thoughtless and heartless person could ever be called sweet in the first place, she added rather gloomily – the car still was the worst place in the work to spend a night in. Bela's neck hurt terribly and her whole body felt like it was ran over by a bus. Twice.

Hell, she needed shower, long and hot, and maybe after that she would probably feel anywhere close to being alive. Moreover, right at the moment she was sure she'd kill for a toothbrush. No, it was good that she always had a bag with spare clothes to change into in the trunk of her car, just to make sure she wouldn't be caught off-guard in case of emergency. But what good it was to her now?

Bela seriously considered all pros and cons of falling backwards again and sending everything to hell in favor of having several more hours of sleep, at least until she finally felt rested, but in the end she opened the door with a frustrated half-sigh, half-snort.

For the record – Bela Talbot hated having dreams! Especially about Dean Winchester. And this time she meant it for real! Because, seriously, what was the point of having them anyway if the end always was the same? Disappointment and embarrassment, and maybe also bitter understanding of impossibility for some dreams to some true.

So, she dragged her broken and shower-longing self out of the car and blinked in the sun, feeling even worse than moments ago all of a sudden. Wished she could hide in the trunk, assuming the state and mood she was in, and stay there until they arrived to Buffalo, or any other relatively civilized place.

Dean turned to look at Bela on the sound of opening door and beamed his best smile in her direction. He definitely didn't look as bad as she did, and it only made her frown darkly, out of envy more than anything else. Well, okay, he could have shaved, true, but he looked pretty charming even with some bristle on his cheeks. Not bad at all, quite on contrary. Bela tried not to think about her hair – and where the hell could be her hairbrush? – and yesterday's make-up on her face because it was something that made an idea of traveling in the trunk even more tempting. Instead, she tipped her chin high, all dignity and self-confidence, as if waking up all wrinkled and messed up was the most ordinary and natural thing ever.

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" Dean singsonged with a grin and Bela suspected with a mixture of panic and irritation that he was making fun of her morning appearance. Resisted an urge to check on her reflection in the rearview mirror, and then considered giving him a solid punch in a jaw, but in the end only scowled and pursed her lips.

She was getting pathetic, really! Regarded him rather severely lest he believed that she actually enjoyed their little… camping or in case he thought that his inelegant greeting slipped. Oh, Lord! And wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The sun was bright but the air remained cool all the same. Not as freezing as at night though, and probably it was too early for it to warm up. Early… and what time was it anyway? She opened her mouth to ask, but then:

"What happened? Who was that?" meaning the recently disappeared car.

"Family road trip," Dean chuckled and added when her face pulled in silent _What?!_ "Whatever. Did you know that you had some problems with accumulator? This guy was kind enough to stop and help me with it. Otherwise… Well, you don't wanna hear the rest." And he shrugged somewhat like _You're a smart girl, I know you know what I mean_.

"I'll kill him," Bela muttered through clenched teeth.

"Why?!" Dean's jaw dropped. "For helping?! Cute! If you ever – _ever!_ – want to thank me for something, whatever it can be, just forget it, okay?"

"Oh, not him!" And on the wince, "My mechanic. He should have known better and told me… Never mind." Geez, she was rather edgy at this time of the day! "So," Bela cleared her throat and suppressed an impressive yawn, "what? Can we go now?"

"Well, yeah. We're not that lost by the way," Dean pointed out, all _I told you so!_ "There was no need to panic, you see? Another twenty miles and we're back on the highway again."

"Meaning, I should have sent you for help at night?"

"Meaning, you have a lousy map."

"I have a good map and a lousy driver," Bela snapped with unjustified irritation.

"It was your idea to turn here," he returned right away, made her gasp in indignation, exactly like the day before.

"It was…" She cut off. "Whatever! Can we stop it, please?" Huffed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Let's just get out of here."

"Now, aren't you a joy to be around?" Dean sneered.

"Dean? Do shut up, please! I'm tired and I'm hungry, and, believe me, you down want to mess up with me right now."

--

They drove for another several hours. Whoever informed Dean about the highway, didn't lie. Some ten or fifteen minutes – in the car that moved! – and they were there. As soon as they passed the first road sign Bela checked on the map and found out that they actually cut the rout, which was pretty meaningless anyway. Had they not been stuck on that damn road for the whole night, they'd probably be in Buffalo or somewhere not quite far from it by now. Seven hours closer anyway.

Not that she was in a hurry but there were some things Bela preferred to be over with as soon as possible. Like getting rid of a blood-thirsty and revenge-oriented criminal who was after her. And… well, nothing-oriented hunter who was _with_ her. Besides, she wanted to be out of the car.

Bela pretended to be looking out the window at whatever scenery was there most of time. Pretended she didn't feel Dean shooting quick glances in her direction every now and then. Kept on casting her own glanced at him too, actually, when she was sure he wasn't watching. Didn't know what to talk about and the silence was… not quite tense or awkward, or anything, but… just strange. With Dean. Wondered in the back of her mind if he was the same in his normal state, driving with Sam to wherever they thought their help was needed.

No, of course not. They'd probably discuss the details of their new case, maybe run through the old ones. Maybe remind each other how bloody noble it was to be hunters and save people – that could be hit by the bus and killed the day after, - or whatever other stupid subject they could come up with. Women. Of course they talked about women. Did they ever talk about her? Should have. Anyway, it was highly doubtful that Dean could have problems with finding what to talk about with his brother.

Speaking of Sam… He didn't show up, and it started bothering Bela some two hours, or a couple hundred miles, later. It wasn't a concern of course. Who was she to be worried about one of the Winchesters? Or both. But, truth be told, Bela had a better opinion about the younger Winchester than leaving his brother with the first _anyone_ along the way and simply disappearing just like that.

Well, that was how she was seeing it, not necessarily how Sam was seeing it from his side. Smart boy must be having another view on the situation, sure. And he could also be head over heels in whatever research he was doing to help Dean to even remember his own name. Was probably buried in the books right now, she thought. Anyway, it was too late to think about any of this now that she and Dean had covered two thirds of their way to Buffalo. It made sense to at least make it to their final destination before getting rid of Dean.

They stopped for a quick breakfast in another diner somewhere between this state and that.

Dignity sent to hell for good, Bela used its bathroom to finally brush her teeth – good girl that she was always had a spare toothbrush in a traveling bag – and fix her hair. She was right about her hair, by the way. Wide mirror – which was what? a hundred times bigger than the one in her car? – proved it the moment she looked at her reflection. But all in all, it also proved that the situation wasn't as disastrous as she thought. Bela spent about half an hour in front of it, did her best to make herself more presentable at any rate and felt considerably better when she was done.

Two cups of coffee helped, too. Made the morning brighter anyway, and even Dean stealing the last pancake from her plate didn't dim it. She could always steal something from him in return, couldn't she? Bela caught herself on humming some tune all the way across the parking lot back to the car and manfully didn't say a word when Dean left the song that she didn't quite like after flipping through all radio stations, twice. Moreover, found herself tapping her fingers on her knee in time with music after a while.

Dean seemed relaxed too, and if quick looks that Bela kept on giving him from time to time out of the corner of her eye were not deceiving, he was enjoying the ride. His features were calm and peaceful, and the line of his shoulders, which she got used to seeing quite tense, was at ease now. He looked somewhat boyishly proud of his choice of music which Bela couldn't share even if she wanted, but she – strange as it was - unexpectedly didn't want to comment on it in order to intentionally spoil the moment for him.

Shared and returned his cheeky smile, which he gave her when their eye met accidentally. Hers was rather wry but it was okay, and they both let it slip.

He was still refusing to let her drive – Bela suspected that his ego would never let him be a passenger unless it was the Impala and his brother at the steering wheel – and she had to admit that it felt sort of nice. Like she wasn't in charge or something…

The conversation settled, more or less, when the monotonous scenery outside the car started getting on their nerves.

They tried to play words but it quickly turned out that Dean didn't know most of the states, which made Bela wonder rather mischievously if it was his amnesia to blame for that or it was just Dean who didn't give a damn about what was the name of a place where he hooked up a girl or two. Both variants seemed equally possible to her.

"No, seriously, Bela, there are only a few states that start with 'A', while most of them actually finish on 'A', and there are none that finish on 'V' to name 'Virginia'," was the phrase that practically killed all the fun some ten minutes later.

She resisted an urge to add that no states also ended on 'W' to name 'Wyoming' or 'Wisconsin'. And it was an extremely stupid game anyway, and the two of them were way too old to play it. It amused her though how Dean attempted to cheat in the beginning, making up some imaginary state names so that they would end on the letters that suited him, or transforming those that he knew into something totally ridiculous by putting the letters into another order or adding some extra ones in the beginning or in the end.

Bela outlawed any cheating from the start – simply because it seemed to her that Dean Winchester didn't usually play fair and it was exactly what she wanted him to do for once. But still she had to admit to herself that she didn't remember the last time she was laughing like that. Strange how easy it was to forget that Dean supposedly hated her, the way she presumably didn't like him back.

"But I won!" He declared at last. "I named more states!" And the way he said it – all so proud and self-satisfied – made Bela unexpectedly pleased, and she nearly agreed. _Wanted_ to agree.

"Like hell you did!" She scoffed instead. "You named _imaginary_ states! That does not count."

"You say so only because this freaking awesome idea haven't occurred to you."

Bela snorted. Wished she could have a game of poker with him, show him what bright ideas could come to her head, despite what he was obviously thinking.

--

Phone call that Bela so desired to receive caught her on the gas station. She left the car to have some fresh air – as fresh as it could be on the gas station – and stretch her legs, and was watching Dean flipping through the pile of DVD disks while waiting for the change at the counter in the small shop where he went to pay for gas and a bottle of orange juice that she requested for herself when her cell phone rang.

Bela checked on the caller ID and her lips stretched on the will of their own at the sight of a goofy-looking cartoon character, which she put for Sam Winchester. Couldn't believe she was seeing it. Sam? Really? Wow, what a surprise!

"Sam!" She drawled into the receiver, voice sweeter than sugar and sincerely happy, as if she was talking to an old friend and not… whoever Sam Winchester was to her. "Hi! How are you?"

"_Bela?_" His voice sounded surprised. Or skeptical, she would say. Choose what you like better. Made her suspect that he had probably dialed her number by mistake, say, pushed the wrong button and now had to do something with it. Or maybe he didn't expect her to pick up at all. "_What the hell is going on? Where are you?_"

Okay, it was hardly a mistake after all.

"What do you mean?" And she was genuinely curious about that. Did she miss something? She looked over her shoulder at Dean who was now talking to the clerk. Nothing seemed to be any different than five minutes ago. "Everything's great! I told your brother that we are married. He didn't have a problem with believing me, I must say. So lovely naïve! And right at the moment we're having a honey-moon of some sort, you know." She informed him as seriously as she could, lowered her voice even a little bit to make it sound like a big secret. Tacked on to hit a couple of weak spots, "Dreams do come true, I know that now." All pure delight.

"_I've been to your place!_" Sam hissed, totally ruining the float of Bela's fantasy about seriously telling Dean something like that. "_It is sealed with a police tape like… like some kind of a crime scene. What happened? Where is Dean?_"

_Oh!_

Bela clapped her mouth. Bit her lower lip. The younger Winchester didn't forget about his brother after all. "We got in a little trouble," she confessed on a sigh. "Well, _I_ got. Had to drag Dean into this mess, too, as he was sticking around. He is fine, by the way."

"_What?!_" He gasped. "God, Bela!" She could almost see him rubbing the bridge of his nose with the tips of his fingers. Didn't even need to concentrate hard to imagine it. "_What _now_?_"

"Stop it, Sam!" She cut him off firmly and rather coldly. "I told you from the start that it was a very bad idea to leave Dean with me. My lifestyle makes me the worst babysitter in the world, and not the most reliable, too. So don't you dare blame me for something that I can't control, because, believe it or not, being all screwed up is not my idea of fun."

Bela heard him exhale loudly through his nose, clearly with frustration and annoyance. Could practically hear him thinking, considering one thing or another, whatever they were. Wondered if _A coldhearted murder of Bela Talbot_ was on the list and tried to guess how much he regretted not taking Dean with him to that research trip of his. Still, when he finally spoke again, his voice was controlled indeed.

"_Okay, sorry_," which didn't sound like a sincere apology. Bela grimaced but let it slip, sincere person that she was. "_Where are you?_"

"We are on the run," she confided and even nodded as if he could see her.

"_Informative!_" He sneered. "_Any particular place or you're hiding in the mountains?_"

Bela paused. Truth was that she had no idea where exactly they were at the moment. A gas station on the highway between one city and another. She knew the state, but conspiracy required keeping it secret, just in case.

So, she ignored his sarcastic question.

"Did you find a way to restore Dean's memory?" Asked instead.

And an extremely long silence on the other end of the call was an answer to her.

"_No_," Sam finally confirmed on a sigh what she was sure of. Bela could have sworn that he winced at the fact of admitting his failure in finding a perfect cure right away to her, or to himself, which made her wince, too. "_But I… um, I'm looking, and I'm sure that there should be something. Must be. This rituals and stuff… they are never one-sided. It's just… I don't like to think that Dean…_"

"Cut the crap then, Sam!" Bela interrupted him, all annoyance. "We're doing fine. Sort of." She took a breath to calm herself down. "No need to worry. Give me a call when you have good news." Paused, and added, lest her answer seemed nice, "And count yourself lucky that I didn't leave your lunatic of a brother somewhere along the way. Might have as well let the police take care of him, too."

She wouldn't, and she knew it, and she knew that Sam was probably aware of it, too, but she was sick and tired over the edge of Sam Winchester not taking her seriously.

There was another pause – and Bela was getting pretty tired of them – before Sam graced her with another reply.

"_I appreciate it, really_." Sounded more sincere this time, she noted to herself. "_Just give me more time, okay?_"

"Do I actually have a choice, or what?" She scoffed but made sure that it sounded lighter than her previous tirade. She wasn't mad. Not really. Not now that she was getting used to having Dean for a company anyway.

"_Um…_" Sam cleared his throat. "_Can I have a word with Dean?_"

"Sure!" Bela looked around, found Dean heading in her direction with a paper-bag, that surely contained not only her orange juice but also who knew what else. Not a collection of "Playboy" or something that she wouldn't appreciate, she hoped. "Dean, honey, your brother would like to talk to you!" She singsonged, all adoration, loud enough for Sam to hear every word just because she knew how much it would piss him off.

Smiled – all teeth – at Dean when his brows arched expressively accompanied by a _did-I-miss-something?_ expression. He even looked back to check if she was talking to him, or there was someone else behind his back. Smirked when found no one.

He passed that paper-bag of his to her in exchange for her cell phone.

"Um… Sam?"

Bela listened to his rather uncertain voice as she poked her nose into the bag. Thought that it wasn't quite comfortable for Dean to talk to someone he didn't know – complete stranger, even if it was his brother he cared for so much, and felt a rush of sympathy, and sadness. None of them probably knew what to say. Must have been feeling rather miserable.

As for the bag, she was right after all. Her bottle of orange juice was accompanied by a bottle of apple juice, a couple of prepackaged sandwiches – they seemed pretty edible to her, a chocolate bar and something else on the bottom which Bela couldn't make out without emptying the bag.

"Yeah, I'm… we're fine."

And, okay, following a one-sided conversation was taking too much of her attention at the moment to seriously care for something else. She wished she could hear Sam's part, too, naturally curious that she was. But being too close to the road was making it nearly impossible.

"Well, we're driving to…" A strong punch in a shoulder cut Dean off and made him glare down at Bela with utter displeasure, "somewhere," he finished and made a face at her. "Okay… No, she's good." Bela snapped her head up at his words, all ears now. "No, she's not threatening me. And she's not making me say so." Steaming teapot was making its return. _I'll kill him_, she thought on a huff and her eyes narrowed furiously. "No, Sam, I swear she doesn't have a gun on my right now…"

"Give me that!" Poor bag left on the hood of her car, Bela snatched her cell phone from Dean and started into the receiver, "Listen to me, you little…" before she realized that the call was over and Dean was literary choking with his laughter.

"Sam hung up half a minute ago," he admitted with fake shame and didn't manage to hold back a grin. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"You are a jerk, Dean! Seriously!"

"Oh, you shoulda seen your face, Bela."

"You should have seen _your_ face when you didn't recognize a name on your driving license!" She retorted harshly, and the words slipped out too fast. Long before she realized _what_ she was saying.

It was cruel, and definitely it was a cheap shot, and she saw that Dean's jaw twitched even though he managed to save his smirk. But it dimmed considerably and unmistakably. And it made Bela wish she bit her tongue somewhere in the middle of their fight. Made her feel disgusted with herself, especially when Dean said nothing. He simply took his seat and signaled impatiently for her when she hesitated to follow. And how could she not when she knew that the car squeezed to the size of a table drawer? Too small for the two of them to be in there at the same time. She'd rather he said something, quick and smart, and maybe sharp but _something_! It made things so much worse when he ignored what she said, or pretended that it was nothing, because it wasn't and…

Bela slid inside anyway – the only other choice was to keep standing dumbly in the middle of a stupid gas station – and buckled her seatbelt. Didn't dare to give him as much as a quick glance and knew that he was avoiding looking at her, too. Didn't look in her direction on purpose actually, which bothered Bela a lot more than it should have. More than she expected it could.

Even with the radio on, the silence seemed pretty pressing.

They drove like that for what seemed like eternity, some twenty miles or so, which felt like a couple hundred miles at least, with Dean fully concentrated on the road and Bela's forehead leaned against the cool glass of a window, lips pursed and even teeth clenched tight.

Fine! If he could pretend that it was nothing, then she could, too. Not a problem! What did she say anyway? Only the truth, and who could blame her for that?

And then…

"I'm sorry, Dean," in a whoosh of breath and not even turning to look at him, and praying for him to miss it because it was awkward and embarrassing, and God knew what else. And, hell, as sincere as it could ever be when coming from her, which made it even more embarrassing at once. Bela felt her cheeks blush and wasn't sure she wanted him to see it.

Dean chuckled – or snorted, she didn't understand. "Forget it, okay?"

"It was mean," she breathed out, pressing her forehead harder against the smooth surface as if attempting to merge with it. "I didn't want it to sound like that."

He gave out a short laughter, which was _the_ laughter, and it sort of eased the tension. Bela even dared to cast a quick sidelong glance at him. Registered the upraised corners of his mouth, and felt somewhat better. Still rather guilty deep inside, but not that close to begging for forgiveness as she was minutes ago.

"Makes me wonder…" Dean shook his head in disbelief, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"What?"

"How long do we know each other? I mean… you and me."

In anticipation of an answer he tried to look at her and watch the road at the same time. Failed and made a choice in favor of safely, that was road, but still reminded Bela of a chameleon whose eyes moved independently from one another so that he could look in different directions simultaneously.

"A while," she shrugged indifferently. Five months, two weeks and four days, added mentally and anything but blushed, surprised by the speed of calculation in her mind. Wondered if _the_ Dean remembered it too, or ever gave a thought to something like that, and decided that he would doubtfully memorize their first encounter if it wasn't for the damn rabbit's foot and his brother being in danger because of it. Had any of them, he or Sam, had enough brains not to touch the cursed thing, they wouldn't even notice it missing and maybe would even let it slip. Or maybe not… Bela narrowed her eyes at Dean. "Why?"

"How comes we haven't killed each other yet?" He chuckled.

_I could have asked the same question_, Bela thought.

She laughed softly to herself feeling relieved by the fact that they no longer were at the draggers drawn with each other. Didn't want to fight. Shook her head, completely sharing his poorly hidden amazement, and decided to leave his question without an answer.

It was good that he didn't remember the details. Wasn't it enough that _the_ Dean knew them and probably kept them fresh and bright 24/7 in his mind? Well, it was more amusing than annoying to her. Usually. But still…

Dean hemmed when she said nothing. _Why I am not at all surprised?_ expression on his face as if he managed to read her thoughts.

And it was good, Bela thought. She didn't want him to push the subject. Not now. Didn't want him to start asking questions she had difficulty answering to. All their absolutely ridiculous _I hate you and you hate me too, and that is what makes us so much alike_ relationship. Didn't want to even start thinking about it.

Well, she liked thinking about it, actually. Liked replaying their quippy bantering and sarcastic shots in her head, always had her lips stretched into a smile when she did. Liked thinking about what they said, or could have said, or should have said one time or another. About their never-ending competition for finding out who was the biggest smartass ever! Bela always knew she'd be the winner but why not give poor guy a try? Liked seeing frustrated expression on Dean's face before her mind's eye when her retort was a direct hit. He was a decent opponent, she had to admit. Very good at cheap shots and razor-sharp comments which always kept her alert and ready to return something equally sharp back, lest he thought he could catch her off-guard.

And it was rather childish, really. Because it was stupid to give so much thinking to someone who didn't care. To someone who was a hunter and who presumably was very close to being repulsed by her, and her lifestyle, and who knew what else Bela-Talbot-related. Because surely he didn't enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his, unless it was about showing sharp teeth and sharing a couple of biting remarks. Because it was highly doubtful that Dean Winchester remembered the things she did.

Which was bringing her to an endless list of millions of _what-ifs_. Once again. What if they met in a different way? What if they didn't… okay, _she_ didn't screw it up from the start? And, well, what if he wasn't a hunter and she wasn't a…

At this point the most obvious answer was – they would probably never meet. And if they did… He wouldn't be the same Dean Winchester she knew, and she liked. To a degree. Like a cat could like a mouse. And that was the whole point, wasn't it? They'd probably just pass by each other without so much as a look back.

Bela Talbot wasn't a fatalist. She never relied on fate, or luck – minus rabbit's foot luck – or something else… unreliable. On contrary, she strongly believed that one's destiny was in their hands and their hands only. Tarot and talking-board were another things of course, but even advices from spirits still were only advices, and it was she who was responsible for deciding whether to follow them or not.

Other than that, the most important thing was that Bela strongly believed that everything that had happed in her life – finding out about underworld, becoming a thief and whatever else she was, running into the Winchesters under very lousy circumstances – had happened the way it was meant to be. Not a destiny. A choice… with consequences.

Had she been given a chance to turn back time and change something, she probably wouldn't change anything. Well, maybe something minor, like a couple of failures, but generally – nothing. So, all her mental manipulations with _what-ifs_ and other similarly meaningless crap were ridiculous, to say the least. Just an easy way to spend a couple minutes of free time when she had them between one deal and another.

But one could dream, right? Besides…

"Are you going to stop doing it or what?"

Dean's question made her blink at him stupidly.

"What?"

"Looking back every minute, like you have a bloody persecution mania or something," he made a funny face at her. "We're not followed, I can assure you of that."

And, okay, she didn't notice she was doing something like that, Bela thought. Old habits die hard. Usually she used a rearview mirror to check on the "tail".

"Whatever," she muttered and slumped back into the seat, arms folded on her chest. Stared pointedly out _her_ window. No looking back! Okay! "And how do you know we're not followed?"

"Oh, please! You don't have to be some freaking…" Dean trailed off on the roll of his eyes. Some freaking _what_? "Bela… um… who is John Winchester?" The question made her whip her head so fast that her neck creaked at the movement. Bela winced.

"Your father," without thinking. And added softly and rather unwillingly – never quite liked delivering sad news, "Was." Paused and frowned then, all suspicion. "Why? Do you remember him?"

"What?" Blinked, and then shrugged matter-of-factly, indifferent to her intense peering. "No, just found this in my stuff." Holding the wheel with one hand, he reached backwards and groped for his backpack. Unzipped front pocket, retrieved something wrapped in a piece of leather from it and threw it unceremoniously into Bela's lap, all this on never looking away from the road. Shrugged again. "Thought you might know."

Curious over the edge, Bela unwrapped it carefully.

It was a knife.

She took it, felt weight of cold metal in her hands. It was long, about ten inches, with fine carving on the handle – a battle scene – and wide polished blade, obviously silver. Bela could see her reflection in it, as clear as in a mirror. _John Winchester_ was engraved along the blunt side.

Bela gasped against herself. It was a knife to hunt werewolves. She heard about such things, heard they could kill any kind of monsters, even demons, but had never come across anything as valuable before. They were rare. They were priceless. Literary speaking. Only a few people she met in her life could actually afford to buy something like that. Good as new, she noted, although obviously centuries old. And here it was, right in her hands, solid and real.

"Amazing," she breathed out turning it in her hands to examine every inch. _Fantastic_, added mentally. Thought somewhat belatedly that _the_ Dean would rather die than allow her anywhere close to something like that knife. He'd shoot her before she had a chance to touch it.

"Cool, huh?" Dean cocked his head. "Liked it too. Do you know what this thing is? I mean…" A shrug.

She got it though. _I mean why would I carry something like that in my backpack_, was what he wanted to say. _Why would _anyone_ carry such thing in a backpack?_

"It's a souvenir, I guess," Bela replied in as disinterested voice as she could muster.

Walking on thin ice again. Didn't want him to start asking questions. She barely knew a thing about John Winchester. Heard things, true, and good things they were, but never cared enough to make a proper research. Besides, he died long before she met his sons, so theoretically speaking, Bela never _needed_ to know a thing about him. That's why she didn't. Apart from that, she never was good at telling family stories.

"I can be like some freaking Indiana Johns with this thing," Dean smirked.

"And why do you remember some bleeding comic book hero and not my name?" Bela looked up as if expecting for an answer from above. This was what she'd call insulting, indeed.

"I know your name."

"Because Sam told you," grimaced at him.

"Saw Indiana Johns comic books stand in this gas station shop," he confided, big secret that it was. "That makes you even."

"And it makes me feel so much better," Bela drawled, flashed a smile at him.

He gave her a long look – she felt it with every cell of her body, like an electric discharge. "Swear to God, I don't understand you," said then, as if someone could actually help him with that, and shook his head.

"You don't have to," another snort, followed by a _hell-if-anyone-can_ glance on expressively arched brows, and she got back to examining the knife again.

It never occurred to Bela that some stupid hunters could own a thing like that! Sure as hell they had no idea what kind of treasure they possessed, Bela thought with irritation.

Her palms itched in anticipation of… oh, a bloody _lot_ of money, and she didn't need to think for more than half a second to know who of her contacts would pay a fortune for such toy. One deal like that and… and she could practically retire at the age of twenty four and spend the rest of her life drinking Margaritas on the beach of her personal island.

The thought made Bela smile to herself. One phone call and…

What a tease! Not, seriously, it was like a big _Ha!_ right in her face. In any other situation that would be exactly what she'd do the next moment after laying her eyes on the knife without so much as a second's hesitation. Oh, she hated Dean Winchester! Like _really_ hated! Hated her own unexpected softness because making the damn phone call would be like stealing a candy from a child, now that Dean had no idea what this knife was. So mean! And, bitch that she was, she wasn't mean bitch.

Bela scowled. Decided to make a try when Dean was back to his normal irritating self again so it would at least be a challenge of some sort.

As for now, she wrapped the bloody priceless object back into leather and bent over the back of her seat to return it to the safety of Dean's backpack. As far from her sight as possible before she changed her mind and did something she would most likely regret later. Zipped it pointedly and nodded with satisfaction to herself. Even felt somewhat generous.

She _could_ be good.

They drove in silence for a while exchanging that _I know you know, and I know that you know that I know, and it is so damn cool_ looks, as if they really were all buddies and close enough to actually share something.

The thought made Bela cringe. No way on Earth she was going to be the best friends with a hunter, no matter how attractive he was and no matter how much she liked seeing his jaw twitch at her quick shots. It was a matter of honor, for God's sake! Of common sense. She and Dean - friends… Geez, too insane, even for a joke.

But the music was good now, and cute charming dimples on Dean's cheeks were making Bela smile nearly despite herself. And maybe it wasn't that bad to know him a bit better now that she had a chance.

* * *

**To be continued…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note**: Seriously, I have no idea what to write in author's comments this time :)) Just read this chapter and tell me what you think about it :)

Rated T for content.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Bela must have dozed off somewhere between here and there, lulled by monotonous ride, smooth road, which seemed strangely endless, steady purr of the car's engine accompanied by Dean's humming, and warm sun shining through the windshield. She wasn't asleep, it felt more like drowsiness where she was floating between dreams and reality, but it was nice anyway, especially after two nearly sleepless nights.

Two nights?! Meaning, it had only been two days since everything started? Oh, Lord, it seemed so much longer!

It was the lack of soft and comfortable car's roar that Bela got pretty much accustomed to and, yeah, Dean elbowing her unceremoniously into whatever he could reach that forced her to open her eyes on the grunt. She raised her head, and slumped back immediately attempting to avoid direct sun and… and why wouldn't this man let her sleep for another six… no, ten hours?

"What now?" She croaked in what seemed a terrible sound even to her own ears, and rubbed her eyes.

So not ready to be up and about! No, seriously, when this all was over – some day it surely would be, one way or another – Bela swore to God she would grant herself a whole week of sleep, all phones off, in the best hotel she could afford, registered under fake name so that no one could barge into her room asking to look after their amnesic relatives!

And, please, let it not be her car once again!

"Rise and shine!" Dean thumped her in the shoulder, as if waking her up wasn't enough. Made Bela wonder if she was going to have an unpleasant-looking bruise all over her arm. "We did it!"

"Did _what_ exactly?" She yawned and finally bothered to take a look around.

"Welcome to Buffalo!" He announced, and it sounded more like _Welcome to Disneyland_ or _Welcome to Vegas_, or whatever other place could possibly make Dean Winchester sound that happy. Beamed his best smile at her.

Bela blinked at him. Buffalo?

Looked around once again, and asked, "Are you sure?" not without skepticism because it looked to her like they were lost in the woods, not in the middle of a big city. Grabbed the map from the dashboard and stared bluntly at it as if seriously expecting to see a flickering mark "You're here!" somewhere on the surface.

Dean snorted and left the car which Bela took as flat refusal to comment on her words.

On a sigh, she pushed the door open and climbed out into the late afternoon sun, too.

Found herself in the middle of a not so big parking lot. A jeep and a minivan were parked to the right from them, each near a one-storey wooden cabin, similar as identical twins, separated by a neatly mown lawn and a waist-high hedge. Several other cabins were scattered between the trees here and there.

The whole place was surrounded by tall, centuries old pines and seemed rather deserted, although she could hear cars passing somewhere in the distance.

"What is this?" Bela arched an eyebrow. "A _camping_?" Which sounded like _Could this day get any better? At all!_

"A motel, actually." Dean stretched himself leisurely like after a long sleep. "Thought you wouldn't like to spend one more night in the car," shot up his own brows questioningly.

"So damn right!" Bela breathed out in agreement. God, she could nearly feel hot water streaming down her body and… oh, and there definitely would be normal bed, like _flat_ bed. That was good, Bela thought. Kind of thing she needed most right now – some time and good place to make a pause and think everything through. Take a break.

"But we can put a tent for you in the back yard," he added matter-of-factly with a shrug. "See how adventurous you can be." Winked at her.

"One more word, Dean, and I'll feed you to mosquitoes," she promised, all confidence, and nodded pointedly.

She followed Dean to the registration office that looked very much like guest cabins – also made of wood, with white drapes on the windows. Only it was twice bigger and had a wide signboard with "_North Pine Motel_" on it hanging over the entrance. There was a rocking-chair on the porch and a colorful flowerbed along the front wall.

By the time Bela reached the porch – which wasn't fast because it took her quite a while to look around, register this thing and that, possible escape routs maybe – Dean was already coming down the stairs. Rushed past her towards the car whistling something under his breath and looking extremely active and energetic, as if in anticipation of something big and interesting. Looking like that, he reminded Bela of a kid in an amusement park who didn't know where to turn in the whirlpool of music and bright colors.

He found his backpack in the backseat and – bloody gentleman! – even snatched Bela's traveling bag from her hands when she retrieved it from the trunk. All on grouchy "Give me that!". Had an absolutely pissed off expression on his face like _Oh, why me? It will never end!_ accompanied by a dramatic roll of his eyes. So Dean-like that Bela couldn't help but wonder – after she made a funny face at him – whether he managed to get his personality back somewhere on one the gas station or another.

She followed him down the narrow cobbled path that snaked between the trees and towards one of the cabins. Waited for him to open the door and shot her brows up when he held it for her, pretending that his courtesy was surprising.

Bela liked what she saw inside. The cabin wasn't big although no one could call it small too, and consisted of two rooms – the bigger one was a living room united with kitchen and the smaller one was, apparently, a bedroom – and a bathroom. It was furnished in country style with numerous striped floor coverings scattered all over the place in seeming disorder and an animal skin mounted on one of the walls.

Not a five stars place definitely, but not a minus five stars either. All in all, it looked… nice, Bela decided. Cozy, especially now that low sun was shining through big windows making walls and furniture look like they all were covered in honey. Last time she checked, the Winchesters were squatting in an abandoned house, a total dump of a place. Anything was better than that!

"Aw, man, fantastic!"

She found Dean in the bedroom lying flat on his back on the huge bed covered with bright – obviously handmade – comforter with his hands behind his head and absolute pleasure written on his face. Fantastic indeed!

"I sleep on the right side, _honey_!" Bela stated firmly trying to look serious. Folded her arms on the chest and leaned against the door-post. "And if you start snoring, I swear to God I'll kick your ass out of this cabin. See how you're going to like sleeping in the tent."

"What?" Dean lifted his head slightly to look at her. His lips stretched into an ear-to-ear smile as he tapped on the bed beside him. "Wanna join?"

"Get out of my bed, Dean."

"_Your_ bed? Since when…"

"Don't make me hurt you." Bela stretched her own lips wide and batted eyelashes at him.

"I'm not exactly in a mood for such kind of games, sweetheart, but if you insist…" wiggled his eyebrows expressively.

"Out! Now! I count to three. One…"

Dean rolled his eyes, and then rolled off the bed on the grunt.

"On the way back you're driving!" He pointed out.

"I'm sure the couch is very comfortable," Bela singsonged after him.

"Whatever!" He shot back, and then in absolutely different voice, "Hey, Bela, check this out! Bet you're gonna like it!"

Curious, she went after him out of the room and into the terrace… and stopped in her tracks mesmerized despite herself by the scenery before them.

Deep-blue and glass-smooth lake was surrounded by high mountains and trees which were coming down steep slopes to the very edge of the water. And silence, like there was nothing and no one in the world except for this serenity.

Dean was standing there at the railing. He looked over the shoulder at the sound of her footsteps.

"Freaking awesome, huh?"

"Breathtaking," Bela exhaled not even trying to keep her cool. Cocked her head and looked at Dean who seemed to be waiting for something. An approval maybe. Oh, as if her reaction wasn't enough! "Nice choice," she said all the same and leaned against the railing next to him. Received a somewhat relieved smile in response.

"So, wanna have a swim?"

"Right after you!" She drawled and tacked on, "The water must be freezing cold."

"Maybe some other time, then. Do you think they have something to eat?"

He patted her on the back – nearly sent Bela flying over the railing and into the aforementioned water – and headed for another door which led to the living room area.

Oh, sure, Bela thought rather mischievously. They keep the fridge stuffed with all kinds of junk food waiting for Dean Winchester to drop in.

Hot shower made her feel considerably better, and somewhat sleepy too. She found her pajamas in the traveling bag – plain pale-blue sweatpants and a t-shirt – and pulled it on. Remembered telling the Winchesters about sleeping on silk sheets, rolling naked in money, and smiled to herself. Their ideology would have crashed if they found out that hell if she ever changed her flannel jammies for a piece of something silk, light and slippery.

The thought made Bela sigh and long for her cat's company.

Dean gave her a long appreciative glance from head to toe and scoffed, "Are you twelve or what?" obviously referring to pink stripes on the sleeves of her t-shirt before slipping into the bathroom.

Bela stuck her tongue out at the door.

Not that she really cared or something… But she found a spare blanket in the wardrobe – lest he had a reason to pop in the bedroom later – and took one pillow off her bed. Left them on the couch and considered her mission done. The couch did look comfortable enough to her, by the way. Especially compared to her car.

After that she climbed under the covers and anything but moaned with pleasure when her head touched _real_ pillow. Pulled her own blanket to her very chin smelling in fresh scent of fabric softener and closed her eyes.

Dean left the bathroom some five minutes later. Bela listened to him walking around the living room muttering something to himself. Half-expected him to break unceremoniously into the bedroom for one thing or another, whatever could come into his head. For a _Good-night_ or something. He didn't though, and Bela couldn't decide at once whether she was relieved or disappointed by it. Heard him talking to someone of the phone – maybe Sam? – but fell asleep long before she came to a satisfying conclusion.

--

Phone call woke Bela several hors later. She grunted in her sleep and groped for her cell phone not quite bothering to wake up properly, or even open her eyes. If it was Sam, she thought, and, truth be told, no one else came to her mind right away, she'd send him right to hell for the next several hours.

It wasn't Sam though. And thank God, it wasn't Luke – her second guess.

It was a buyer – a potential buyer to be exact – and a very prospective one. Bela had several good items to offer him – in her apartment!! – and she tried to keep her voice all business while quickly calculating in her mind how much time she would need to get rid of Luke, say farewell to the Winchesters and be back to her normal life. Caught herself on the thought that she was actually looking forward to meeting clients and making deals, and suppressed a heavy sigh.

Made sure that she sounded bright and eager to cooperate, and hung up after they agreed to meet in the end of next week. Promised herself that she'd shoot Sam and Dean for real if any of them dared to stay in her way this time and, satisfied, climbed out of the bed. It was right about time to start finishing that nightmare her life turned into!

Right after some coffee… and breakfast was probably good idea as well.

--

Picking the locks had always been Bela's favorite part of her business. Well, not as favorite as getting money for her job, of course, but something that she enjoyed, too. She got it right off when she only started her business, didn't need to train much as if her fingers could practically feel what to do, and how to do it right. Maybe it was a talent, if the word _talent_ was appropriate for a thief.

Right now her fingers were moving on their own and Bela knew that it was a matter of seconds, and then she would have access to the Winchesters' treasure storage.

It wasn't hard to get rid of Dean for a while. She didn't need more than one hour to be over with this. And she couldn't bring him with her. Yeah, right, Bela Talbot wasn't friends with conscience or something else ridiculous, meaning she didn't need to have it clear to have good sleep at night. But even assuming that, she knew better than bringing Dean Winchester to rob his father's storehouse, or whatever it was. It was like a suicide after all, and insolence, truth be told. And, anyway, it was enough to know that she'd have to deal with consequences sooner or later.

She waved away the thought about Dean's reaction to what she was about to do. He would probably rip her head off her neck the next moment his memory was restored for good. Or the next moment he found out. But she was trying to save her life, for God's sake! Even he couldn't blame her for that, besides…

Cautious footsteps in the corridor round the corner made Bela caught her breath. But she didn't pause even for a moment, and didn't turn back either. Instead, she turned all ears. Carefully let go off the picklock – let it stay stuck in the keyhole – and reached slowly into the front pocket of her jacket. Felt considerably better only when her fingers closed around cold steel of her gun. Oh, she was anything but not prepared.

Whoever was there behind her was now only some twenty feet away. Trying to ignore heavy thudding of her heart against the ribs, Bela took a breath, counted mentally to three and whirled around, weapon raised, coming face to face with…

"Jesus, Dean!"

She jerked her arm up before her finger pulled the trigger and exhaled loudly.

"Cute!" He snorted without so much as a start, looked around shabby and pretty dark corridor. Arched his brow when his gaze shifted to the door with padlock behind Bela's back. "Another exciting hobby of yours?"

She frowned at him, folded her arms on the chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sightseeing tour around the dumps of the city," he shrugged. "Thought it wasn't a bad idea to drop in here, check on the place."

"What?" Bela blinked at him.

"Taking of right after sending me for sandwiches wasn't the smartest idea, I must say."

"Are you calling me stupid, Dean?" Which wasn't that far from the truth actually, assuming the he followed her here and she didn't notice it. "How sweet! Well, maybe next time I shouldn't be that fast in my reaction _not_ to shoot you." And waved her gun pointedly at him for emphasis.

He hemmed, all _C'mon! We've been through this before like what? A million times? And nothing happened!_ Bela made a funny face at him and tucked her gun behind the waistband of her jeans.

"You followed me." And it wasn't a question, not even close. Moreover, it sounded very much like an accusation.

"Yeah." Dean's voice wasn't guilty or shameful. "You're sort of the only person I know in the whole world, so it's better to stick around, you know, to make sure that you don't get in a trouble."

"And I almost believed that you were worried about _me_," she drawled on a sigh. Shook her head and looked at him with deep disappointment.

"Good news – you don't have a 'tail'. I checked that!" He beamed.

"Oh, this is so much more than I expected, really! I already knew that though, but thanks for double check all the same."

"No doubt about that. Any luck?" He waved his head towards the picklock.

Bela looked at it too, considering.

"Trying to save my ass, Dean, and other parts of the body, speaking of that. You can't put it against me." Gave him a meaningful look over the shoulder. "And stop staring at my ass, by the way."

"Guilty," he flashed broad smile at her, all teeth. "Couldn't help myself now that you've mentioned it."

"So very Dean Winchester! Anyway, you either shut up and help, or get out of me hair."

"A hell of a choice!" Which she took as _shut up and help_.

"Watch the corridor then," Bela instructed him. And then, under her breath when her fingers closed around the picklock again. "Oh, I so don't like it!"

Dean grumbled something behind her back. Something very incomprehensible, too. But it made Bela feel… somewhat safer maybe, just having him around.

"Then you're the first criminal breaking the law against your will."

"Shut up, please. I mean it, Dean."

The lock gave in easily. Too easily, assuming whose storehouse it was. Bela removed it slowly, trying to avoid any extra sounds, and paused for a moment before pulling the door open.

"You know, it seems strangely logical to get inside before we're spotted here," Dean hurried her, shooting quick glances back.

"And since when logic is your strong point?" Okay, it was an instinct – to tease him every time she was given a chance, not because she really was in a mood for that. "Can you promise me one thing, Dean?"

"I'm not going to cover you if we're caught here," he warned her right away, all mock seriousness. "Swear to God, I'm gonna give you away to cops as soon as they show up and claim that you dragged me into this crap."

Bela cocked her head, batted her eyelashes at him. "Why, Dean, what happed to 'You're the only person I know in this goddamned world'?"

He gave her long appraising look from head to toe and back.

"Think it's gonna be hard to replace you?"

Bela elbowed him on a short laughter amused by his so artificial pain.

"Okay, get it out. What is it?"

"Promise you won't kill me when all this is over," in a whoosh of breath.

"Meaning, I'm gonna have a reason?"

"Maybe a couple," she shrugged nonchalantly. "So?"

"Okay."

"Dean!"

He rolled his eyes. "I _promise_! Happy now?"

"Immeasurably!"

And oh, she was so going to remember his promise for the rest of her life! Like a secret weapon against Dean Winchester to use every now and then, winning card in the sleeve. See how he was going to wiggle out of this. Wished she could have it recorded or something, just to make it a 200 sure thing. And wondered somewhat curiously how good Dean Winchester was at keeping his word.

Storage container was storage container, regardless of its owner, or contents. It was dark and dusty, and obviously unvisited for months. Did they come here at all after this rabbit's foot story?! Not bloody likely.

Bela ran her flashlight around the place. It looked creepy with numerous protection symbols and demon traps drawn everywhere on the floor and walls, and even on the ceiling. Aware of all possible tricks, Bela illuminated floor first. Caught a glimpse of thin wire stretched some five inches above the floor. Followed it and hemmed at the sight of a crossbow placed behind animal scull and aimed right at her chest. Smart! And not without sense of humor. Well, these morons of thieves she hired back then to retrieve rabbit's foot for her told that one of them was injured. Bela didn't remember the details but a crossbow was a good guess about _how_ they were probably injured. She shook her head. Amateurs.

Dean stumbled somewhere behind her, dropped something to the floor maybe, and cursed silently. Bela closed her eyes and then opened them slowly with a sigh.

"Dean, you okay?" Without turning back to check on him.

"Maybe we should try to break into the toyshop or something more entertaining next time?"

"Just please, do try not to complicate my life and stay out of trouble," _or your brother will make _my_ life more entertaining_, added mentally.

"What the hell is this place anyway?" He joined her. Took a shotgun from one of the shelves and gave a long studying look. Aimed at the wall and pretended he was going to shoot. "Looks like an amusement park for complete dolts."

"You tell me," Bela muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." She chewed on her lower lip. Made her way past possible millions of her income, trying not to think about the contents of the container this way although her palms itched, out of thieving instinct in the first place. Oh, she was definitely going to visit this place in the future, help the boys get rid of all this "old" and "useless" stuff. "Where the hell could they be?"

"Are we robbing your colleague or what?" Dean wondered somewhere from the corner. "Someone crossed your path, and… that was the guy's biggest mistake ever?"

Colleague?? The definition nearly made Bela giggle. Honestly, she never thought of the brothers this way. _Colleagues_! That was generally _fools_, or _royal_ _pain in the ass_, or _revenge obsessed maniacs_. But never anything close to _colleagues_, surely!

"Why?"

"Looks familiar?"

Dean turned and showed her two books in shabby covers. _Legends, myths and practical magic_ was written on one of them. Something about demons – the title had faded over time and obviously frequent usage, and Bela couldn't make it out from where she was standing – on the other. She was about to come and have a close look when something else caught her attention.

An old black-and-white autograph in thin wooden frame lay flat on top of cardboard box. She took it carefully and brushed off think layer of dust to have a clear view of the image. Saw a man in his mid thirties with two boys standing under old oak tree, beaming into camera. The younger boy, about 4 years old or so, was obviously Sam, and he seemed to be quite comfortable in his father's arms. Another kid with rumpled hair – all _I-am-a-grown-up!_ – stood nearby. Dean, no mistake. Bela would recognize that wry smile among millions.

She smiled to herself, ran her fingers down Dean's small figure. He was a funny kid, she had to admit, willful and stubborn, if high-tipped chin and bold look were any indication. Had his father's features, which made Bela wonder what their mother looked like.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing. Junk." She put the picture back quickly, face down, feeling her cheeks blush slightly.

She went past him and into the next room. It wasn't hard to find three little black chests with protection symbols carved all over their surfaces. Protection symbols that were aimed to keep something inside, definitely something evil. Empty space between the first and the third chests indicated where the one with the rabbit's foot stood before it had been removed by her employees. Bela wondered what dark mysteries were hidden in the remaining chests, not quite sure that it was a good idea to come here all of a sudden. Who knew what exactly she could release by opening one of them? And which one should she take? Oh, it was right about time for a séance with her talking board! But she had to plan B at the moment and surely had to time to think it out.

"What? All trouble for _this_?" Dean's eyes popped out of his head. He grabbed one of the chests before Bela had time to blink and shook it, like a kid who tried to guess what could be inside of box with his birthday present without actually opening it.

Bela paled expecting anything from atomic blast to… the end of world, or something, and snatched the chest from him. "Watch it! Dean, what the hell do you think you're doing?! Damn, don't touch _anything_!"

"Geez, why so jumpy, Bela?" He made a funny face at her

"Sort of not quite ready to die, you see," on the roll of her eyes.

--

"What do you think can be in there?" Dean asked in a whisper.

"We're right about to find out."

They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the living room in their "North Pine Motel" cabin looking at the chest before them as if seriously expecting for something to happen, like an answer to appear out of thin air. It didn't though, and Bela reached her hands to move the chest closer to herself.

"Are you sure that it is… you know, safe?" Dean asked warily.

"No," she breathed out, gave a long studying look to the chest hesitating to open it. "But… it's not about Luke, you know. Not _only_ about him at least. And everything in this life has a price, Dean, including safety." She paused. Looked up and met his eyes. Another moment of closeness. Strange, but Bela had more such moments with Dean than ever before in her entire life. Strange, but it seemed to stop being awkward. "Whatever it is in there, it can buy _my_ safety."

He nodded. Wanted to say something – Bela saw it – but changed his mind.

_God, help me_, she thought and slowly removed the lid.

They poked their noses inside, nearly bumping into each other and gawked stupidly at the object, confused and puzzled.

Indian-style dream catcher. Thin web and bright feathers looked… well, odd.

Not that Bela expected to see another rabbit's foot, which would be too good. But dream catcher? Seriously?! Like, _dream catcher_?? Oh, she was so dead, she thought rather gloomily. What the hell John Winchester was thinking when locking something like that into this magic box? Well, maybe there was a reason… she just had to figure it out, and, truth be told, no quick and easy explanation came to Bela's mind right away.

"Seriously?" Dean cocked his head, looked at the contents of the chest with amusement. "Your safety seems friggin' _questionable_ if it depends on that thing."

Bela thumped him into the shoulder. "Do try not to sound so happy about that!"

"I will remember you," he promised, all sincere sorrow.

"Oh, shut up!" She kicked him into whatever she could reach, and grimaced because chances were, Dean's joke was not so much as joke. Bit her lip thoughtfully. A couple of phone calls might make it more clear though.

"No offence, Bela, but this _toy_ doesn't look reliable to me."

"None taken." She said dryly, rubbed her forehead. Sighed. "Anyway… Now that we're back to square one… why don't you order us pizza? Swear to God, I'm starving."

--

She made her phone calls, at least a dozen of them, to all people who might or might not have an answer, because someone might know someone who might know someone else who might have an answer. And still she got nothing so far, except for a couple of promises to call back if there were any information. No one came across anything like magical dream catcher in the past, no one heard about it, too. So why would a hunter keep it locked and protected? Maybe Dean knew, meaning _the_ Dean, or Sam, and he was Bela's last hope. But he was not picking up again, and… and she was going to have a hell of a headache if she didn't stop thinking about it for a moment.

Bela made her way out into the terrace. Found Dean standing there with his cell phone clutched in his hand.

"What about our pizza?" She asked. Breathed in fresh air rich with smells of pine and wild flowers. And dry leaves.

"30 minutes, or we don't pay" Dean threw a quick look at his watch. "20 from now."

"Good."

"Got anything?"

"Nope, not yet." Bela looked at her own cell phone with displeasure as if it was it's fault that she was still screwed-up. "What are you looking at?"

"You see this guy?" Dean poked his finger at the elderly man in khaki hat, bright orange vest and hips high boots who stayed in the water with the rod in his hands. "Stands there like this for more than one hour already. Barely moved in this time," he chuckled. "Don't you think it's freakin' strange?"

"He's a fisherman, Dean," Bela giggled.

"Nah! Looks like there's something more than that." He turned to look at her. "Who in their normal state of mind would spend hours standing in cold water?"

"A fisherman."

"Haven't fished out anything so far."

"Give him another hour," she suggested. Leaned against the railing next to Dean and looked at the water wondering if there was any fish in the goddamned lake at all. "You're like James Stewart in _Rear Window_."

His face pulled. "I'm like _who_ in _where_?"

"God, Dean! It's classics! Even you've got to know the movie."

"Maybe I do," he shrugged. "Or some part of me does."

"Oh!" Bela cleared her throat. "Well, it's a movie about a photographer… What?" She frowned at the sight of his distracted smile. Hell if he was listening to her!

"Can you shut up for a second?" Dean asked softly, all elegance and charm.

He reached his hand out, looped a strand of hair around her ear leaving a burning spot on her cheek where his skin came in contact with hers, making Bela hold her breath instinctively. His eyes traveled around her face, paused at her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, and then shifted to her lips. And then his hand slipped around her neck pulling Bela's face closer, and his lips were on hers before she had time to fully understand what was happening. Before she could do anything about it. Not that she wanted or was going to do anything at all. Slowly, he traced the outline of her mouth, and his lips were so warm and soft, and tasted so much better than she ever imagined. So deliciously sweet and… so sending her head spinning around. And his arms were around her waist, holding on to her, that very moment when Bela thought her knees were going to give in.

"Bela…" he started in a whisper.

"Shut up, okay?"

Her arms slipped easily under his jacket and around his waist.

And it was probably a very bad idea, like the worst idea ever, because – hey! – it was Dean Winchester, and he was a hunter, and Bela Talbot was not messing with the hunters. And what was even worse, he was a hunter who had no idea what he was doing. Well, not exactly, and that would probably be a very big problem some time in the future, and she was a kind of girl who was no fans of any complications at all.

But at the same time it was so damn right, so perfect. And – to hell with everything! – she needed to feel his touch, and heat of his body, feel _him_ right now, this very moment, like it was a matter of life and death, and the most important thing in the world. She needed it so much!

* * *

**To be continued… **


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's notes:** this fic is not a song-fic, not intentionally anyway. But I guess there will be a couple of song-chapters, because it bothers me on more than one level that I can't add background music to what I'm writing. /That is what I like so much about movies – they add background music to life/

Well, read now, and maybe you'll se what I mean :))

Still rated T for content.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_-- I could stay awake just to hear you breathing _

_Watch you smile while you are sleeping _

_While you're far away and dreaming _

_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender _

_I could stay lost in this moment forever _

_When, every moment spent with you _

_Is a moment I treasure __--_

And after all it turned out to be the best of all the worst ideas that could have occurred to her ever. Like the most right thing to happen.

"I never thought that it could actually end like this," Bela murmured with a smile into Dean's neck and suddenly felt an immense wish to giggle foolishly or something.

"What?" Dean pulled back a little bit and looked her in the face, the way no one ever looked at Bela Talbot before, like there was no need in words at all because his eyes were saying everything she needed to know. And, oh, when did she start thinking like _that_?! Geez, like after reading a bunch of sugar-sweet romance novels about knights in shining armor, and damsels in distress, and riding into the sunset, and happily-ever-after, and… And she simply couldn't see it any other way from now on.

"Nothing," she smiled softly.

All relaxed and happy, she felt like she was slowly floating through the clouds. And there was no time, and no space, and no… nothing, only the two of them in the whole wide world, and it was strangely okay as if it was exactly how it was _meant_ to be from the start, and the two of them were two damn blind idiots not to see it right away. Or maybe too stubborn to admit it.

Bela rested her head on Dean's shoulder and trailed her fingers up and down his chest. "Couldn't wait for something like this to happen ever since I met you first," told him quietly as if it was the biggest secret and a hell of a confession ever. Well, maybe it was.

"Bet it was mutual," Dean muttered into her hair, and Bela felt his lips press to the top of her head. Closed her eyes taking in every moment of this pleasure. He found her hand of his chest, caught it and entwined their fingers. "Sure as hell it was."

"I wouldn't mind finding out," Bela giggled. Oh, it felt and sounded so stupid, but at the same time so strangely right that she didn't even attempt to bite it back.

"Promise we will."

"You do?" Looked up at him again.

"I do," he breathed out with a smile.

"Oh, come on!" She rolled her eyes. "I know that the general idea was to avoid sleeping on the couch again!" And laughed softly.

Dean's eyes grew wide. "Oh, shit!" He fell backwards into the pillow, and then raised his head slightly, as much as it was necessary to see her face. "How did you guess? No, seriously, I hoped that it wasn't _that_ obvious!"

Bela slapped him on the shoulder in mock fury. Made her best bitchy face and pouted for good measure. Debated kicking him into whatever she could reach… Did her best to ignore the fact that the touch of Dean's hands was turning her into hot liquid making her literary melt in his arms, blood boiling in her veins and heart thudding hard against her ribs. And when he kissed her this time, it was so slow, and gentle, and so beautifully sweet that her heart skipped a beat. Bela stilled against herself wishing for this moment to never end.

"Can you tell me how _exactly_ we met?" He asked in a whisper.

She let out a long exhale and cuddled closer to him, as close as she only could willing herself to memorize every moment, every move, every touch. Felt him playing lazily with her hair – curling and uncurling them around his fingers – while his other hand kept on squeezing and releasing her palm in time with their breath.

"You broke into my apartment," Bela confided. "Literary speaking." Recalled that day in her mind, and yellow sticker on her security system's control panel with laconic, and yet so promising, _Turn around_. So intriguing! It was the first time she actually had a close look at Dean. Something more than a quick glance out of the corner of her eye in the bloody diner when she was fully concentrated on his brother. It amused Bela, the thought that she actually flirted with Sam and how unnaturally word combination _flirt with Sam_ sounded in her head. "You got around my security system and scared me like hell." Mainly with the gun pointed right at her chest, but that didn't really matter now. She would probably remember that day forever even if there were no guns in their hands.

Dean chuckled. "Really?"

"Uh-huh," Bela nodded into his shoulder, let out a small laugh.

"Sounds like fun! No wonder you can't resist me. Who could?"

"_I_ can't resist you?!" She gasped, snapped her head up. "_You_ can't resist me, Dean! And I can resist you just fine." Bela dropped a kiss near the corner of his mouth. Whispered, "The thing is, I don't want to."

"That's the lousiest excuse I've ever heard in my life," he returned the kiss. Ran his fingers through her hair and caught her lips with his mouth once again sending her head spinning round. "So not convincing."

"The best I can come up with," Bela sighed with pity, all so disappointed with herself, caught her breath when he started drawing circles on her back with his fingers. "Your presence makes me strangely dumb, you know."

"I'll remember that. Does it bother you?"

"Not really." Because it didn't, not a bit.

"So, um… are you going to tell me what that movie was about?"

"What movie?"

"'With that James _what's-his-name_, the one that reminded you of me."

"Oh, _Rear Window_. Okay," Bela let him pull her closer and hug her, feeling strangely sleepy all of a sudden but not yet ready to sink into this abyss. Didn't want this dream of a moment to end so fast. "Well, it was about a photographer with a broken leg who had to stay at home, and found no better way to entertain himself than spying on his neighbors…"

_-- I don't wanna close my eyes _

_I don't wanna fall asleep _

_'Cause I'd miss you, babe _

_And I don't wanna miss a thing _

_'Cause even when I dream of you _

_The sweetest dream would never do _

_I'd still miss you, babe _

_And I don't wanna miss a thing --_

--

Bela made her way through the living room and into the kitchen yawning for what it was worth. Polished wooden floor, warm in the late morning sun, felt nice and smooth beneath her bare feet. Dean was nowhere to be seen but she heard him walking around the cabin while she was taking a shower, so, supposedly, he had to be somewhere here.

She ran her fingers through her still wet hair, looked down at Dean's t-shirt that she stole last night and felt her lips stretch into a small smile. Something that was happening between her and Dean Winchester was worth living, Bela thought. Well, it was not so much of _something_, actually, she reminded herself immediately. Not that she was actually _falling_ for him, or something else ridiculous. No way! She just never could have thought that it could be… like this. That _he_ could be like this.

Anyway… it was an issue that needed some serious thinking, which of course she was planning to give it some time very soon, but right at the moment Bela was not quite capable of something like that.

Oh, she needed coffee! A lot of coffee, to clear her rather cloudy and pretty much dreamy mind. Thank God, coffee-machine was one of the items of the kitchen interior, and chances were, she would find a pack of grinded coffee somewhere here, too. Maybe.

Bela spotted a box with their poor forgotten pizza on the counter and hemmed to herself. Poked her nose into the fridge and shot her brows up high at the sight of food supplies. Looked back to the living room to make sure that they hadn't moved to another cabin during the night, and, reassured of that, took out plastic container with plump strawberries. Spotted several yogurts, a pack of cream-cheese, a bottle of orange juice, some eggs and crackers, and decided to come back to all that abundance later.

Did they rob a grocery store, or what? She definitely didn't remember doing anything like that, but, truth be told, hell if she could recall every detail of the previous night.

She whirled around to the squeaky sound of the door opening and closing behind her back.

"Oh, I see you finally decided to grace me with your company," Dean let cool morning breeze into the cabin and sent her a cheeky smile.

Bela swallowed her strawberry and waved her hand at him.

"Hi," smiled back when he came up to her – hair rumpled by the wind and cheeks pink – and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Where have you been?"

"Walking. Feel like coffee?"

And this was when Bela noticed a holder with two cardboard cups in his hand. Her mouth started watering at the bitter smell, and she nearly moaned in anticipation.

"Where did you get it? And the rest?" Poked her finger at the fridge.

"Rosie decided that we might need some _proper_ food and took care of it. Paid for our pizza yesterday by the way, so we're sort of best friends now," Dean replied matter-of-factly.

"_Rosie?_" Bela drawled savoring the name – and decided that she didn't like it at all. Who on earth would want to be named after some frigging flower?! Arched her brows and peered at him. "Who is Rosie?"

"That hot blond chick with unbelievably long legs from reception," he confessed with dreamy sigh. "Been in modeling business a couple of years back, until she got tired of being rich and famous, and felt like moving to the north and starting hotel business. You were asleep, so I decided to take my chance…"

"Dean!" She elbowed him in the ribs as hard as she could and God knew how resisted an immense urge to splash her coffee in his face. And…

And why would she care at all if there could be a clone of Pamela Anderson behind the registration desk, some brainless Barbie always keen on digging some cheap smiles?! Not her business! And hell if Dean Winchester had to care for her feelings, if she had some, which she didn't of course! So, anyway…

"Kiddin'," he laughed softly, slipped his arms around Bela's waist – despite her pretended protest – and kissed her on the nose. "She is a least twice older than me. Decided that I might be starving since our pizza long froze to death, and as there is a kitchen in each cabin and they don't have breakfast buffet or something, she offered to grab stuff for us. Said she was driving to fill up her own food supplies anyway."

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"What?! So that you could ruin the date of my life?"

"You remember that I'm still armed, Dean, do you?" Not without threat in her voice.

"Okay. Maybe I didn't wake you up because I am awesome and caring." He kissed her fully on the mouth, deep and slow. "And because your sleep was so sweet and peaceful that waking you up was like… a crime of some sort."

They ate their cold pizza anyway sitting across each other at the coffee table in the living room. Well, it wasn't that cold and not at all bad after being warmed up in the microwave oven. And even if it was, it was highly doubtful that either of them would give a damn about it.

Technically speaking, there was no need to stay in Buffalo any longer now that Bela had what she came here for in the first place – still questionable item, but better than nothing all the same – and Dean didn't have any business here at all. Technically speaking, they could have taken off back to New-York right after breakfast, or after making the dishes, which consisted of throwing them into the trash can since they were plastic dishes. Dean called it the most genius invention of all times, making Bela laugh and comment on invention of dishwashing machines. He shot something back about fools and complete waste of time.

And, technically speaking they could have been long hitting the road by noon…

But they weren't because none of them wanted to be back to reality that soon. Like there was some silent agreement between them to not even speak about it.

There were no voice messages or missed calls on Bela's cell phone when she checked in somewhere in the afternoon, which meant that she still had no idea what this dream catcher was about. About _something_ for sure, she was certain of it, otherwise someone like John Winchester would never hide it away from the rest of the world. But she couldn't come to Luke and say: _Here is something, I'm not sure what exactly or how it works, because no one ever heard about such thing, but something tells me that it can make us even. Or maybe not. Who knows? Let's give it a try!_ Oh, crap! She would be dead long before she finished her monologue.

--

Good thing about money was that they could buy nearly everything. Good thing about people was that they knew things. Good thing about Bela's sellers and buyers was that they knew things worth paying for. Well, maybe not necessarily with money in this particular case, but probably with a similar favor some time in the future.

This was what Bela liked most about her business – people were interested in giving credible information, whereas in friendship or something else stupid truth was probably the last thing one would hear simply because no one was really interested in telling it. Sparing feelings of the others, that was what they called it. Ha! And she supposedly was cold and calculative after that? Practical and logical were appropriate words.

One of Bela's contacts called her late in the afternoon referring to her earlier request about dream catcher, which she kept locked in the small safe in the wardrobe lest she or Dean did something that would cause it start working, whatever that _working_ could possibly be. The man, who was in the business twice longer than Bela herself and who was her permanent informator for years now, told her that he managed to come across the hunter who knew what the cursed thing was about.

They agreed on the price, and Bela finally got what she wanted – reassurance that her attempts were not vain. Something that brightened up her day essentially.

She tried not to think about Dean and her stupid and absolutely crazy half-hopes not to find anything about this dream catcher because if she didn't, she'd still be in trouble and would have to look for some other solution, which, of course, wasn't an inspirational prospect. But at least she wouldn't feel so disgusted with herself now that their relationship… improved significantly. Sort of. Oh, this was what she called _complications_! God, how she hated herself for what she was doing!

With a sigh Bela picked up her cell phone again and dialed another number, before she could think about what she was doing and change her mind. It was a really bad time for sentiments. She slumped back onto the bed, crossed her legs and tipped the bridge of her nose. Counted dialing tones.

"I'm flattered and honored, Bela," was what she heard for a greeting.

"Luke!" She drawled, all pure delight and happiness. "I take it you're out of prison now that you have your cell phone in your free possession?"

There was a sneer on the other end of the line, like _it insults me if you think that I'd stay there for more than a couple of hours_.

"You tell me you're glad for me, I'll take it like Christmas and my birthday arrived at the same time."

"Oh, let's not ruin world balance and let Christmas and your birthday arrive on their proper days, now shall we?"

Luke gave out a short laugh. "Why are you calling me then, Bela? Got tired of that moron of a hunter? I'm not surprised!"

"He's not…" she started but cut off right away. Hoped she didn't sound too defensive because normally she never did. "I just figured you might be looking for me and decided to save you the trouble."

"Seriously?" He didn't sound entirely convinced. "For any particular reason or after someone used a _humanizing_ spell on you? Did I miss something like _that_?"

"Not yet," as lightly as she could. Brining their bantering to the familiar territory was a good start. "How about becoming good friends once again, Luke?"

"Are you offering a truce?" Not without mockery but she decided to let it slip.

"Are you interested?"

"Depends…"

"As for me, I'm not interested in screwing up my business because of one little mistake," she moved on not giving him a chance to think.

"Little mistake? This is how we call it now?"

"It happens!"

Luke snorted but Bela knew that he was no fool and that he knew better than letting his personal attitude stand in his way to big money, and restored reputation, speaking of that.

"Are you saying that I can get that rabbit's foot?" He asked rather skeptically after a while.

"It is long gone, I told you that already." She did her best not to sound irritated, and sighed. Tried not to think about the main reason of all her troubles that was now roaming around the kitchen humming something under his breath, and caught herself on rather surprising realization that she didn't _actually_ think about Dean like that anymore. "But I have another item, as valuable as rabbit's foot, or maybe even more, depending one how you – or whoever you pass it to – is going to use it. Serious nasty stuff."

"Okay." _Bingo!_ "I'm all ears."

Bela smiled, and couldn't help but sigh with relief.

"Now aren't you a shop talk? Anyway, I got that dream catcher…"

"Dream – _what_? Are you kidding?"

"Just listen, okay?" She rolled her eyes, as if Luke could see her. "I'm sure you know what dream catcher is – Native Americans believed that it could catch your nightmares and keep them trapped so that you could have sweet dreams and sleep peacefully." There was another half-snort half-chuckle on the other end of the call, but Bela ignored it entirely. "The one that I am offering to you is cursed. Like rabbit's foot."

"How _exactly_?" Now he couldn't hide his curiosity, and Bela congratulated herself mentally. She was almost sure it would be way harder.

"Once being in possession of a person, it catches bad dreams alright. The difference is that after that it starts brining them to life, thus trapping its owner in his worst nightmares, driving him crazy within days or making him commit suicide. Rather cruel, if you ask me, but some people find it exciting."

Luke didn't speak for half a minute or so, and Bela could practically see him calculating how much he could get for such thing before her mind's eye. They were not so much different after all.

"So, you really have this… dream catcher?" He asked at last.

"No, I thought it out because I couldn't come up with a better reason to call you." She snorted. "Of course I have it, right before my eyes at the moment." And she gave the black chest a rather displeased look.

"Fine then," he smirked. "I'm interested. And flattered. Didn't think you'd take it so close to heart."

"It's called business. Nothing personal, believe me." Bela looked at her nails. As their conversation went on, she regained her cool back. Reminded herself that she'd been in worse situations and suddenly became all business once again.

"Whatever. How can I get the thing?" Paused. "Where are you anyway?"

"Where you couldn't find me if you weren't interested in my offer," on a short laugh, which, Bela knew, sounded more cold than funny. "How about we meet the next week and settle everything?"

"Can't wait," Luke chuckled. "See you the next week then."

"I'm glad we're partners again, Luke."

"Likewise, sweetheart. I'm surprised though. Thought you were smarter than that."

"Smarter than what? Than messing around with you? Sorry, can't help myself." She smiled hoping that Luke would feel it and appreciate a joke.

"Then messing around with someone bound to Hell."

And he hung up.

Bela looked at the screen of her cell phone where timer stopped at 2 minutes and 10 seconds. Felt strangely stupid as if she didn't know something that everyone else was aware of.

What the hell could Luke be talking about? Meaning, _who_ he was talking about? Himself? Oh, please! Firstly, he was probably bound to Hell from the very moment he got into business, and it never looked like he was giving a damn about something this insignificant. Unless, of course, he worried about his money or a collection of overly expensive cars, which was what he was seriously proud of. Secondly, he had no reason to think that Bela would notice if he disappeared forever. So why tell her?

And if he wasn't speaking about himself, who then?

Dean?

The thought made chill run down Bela's spine, and she waved it away hurriedly. Ridiculous! She wasn't that optimistic to believe in something like Heaven in the first place – knew she never would be allowed anywhere close to it, so why waste her time? – but if there were people who deserved going there, the Winchesters definitely were among them, after all good deeds – she winced – they've done over years.

In the end she decided that it was just an impressive way to end their conversation and not anything specific at all. Ordered herself to forget about Luke and cursed objects for good, at least until she _had_ to think about them.

But not before…

She quickly flipped through the phone book in her cell phone and pushed dial button once she found the right number. Listened to the voice message, which she'd already heard before, and, as much as she didn't like it, got prepared to leave her own message after _beep_.

"Hi, Bobby! It's Bela." Paused, wondering if any other specification was needed and went on when it occurred to her that Bobby wasn't a fool after all. "I need your help." Another pause, this time to resist an urge to disconnect because asking for help wasn't what Bela Talbot liked doing. "Remember that rabbit's foot? Oh, of course you. Who wouldn't? Anyway, I know that it was you who told Sam and Dean how to break the curse, so… I decided that you might know something that I don't. Is there any chance to _uncurse_ such object without actually destroying it and then curse it back, only in a less… harmful way?" Counted to three in her mind as giving Bobby some time to think about an answer to her question. "I can't be more specific now. Call me back as soon as you get this message. It is very important." And tacked on, lest he deleted her message. "Greetings from Dean! Bye!"

And she hung up, satisfied for now.

--

It was the sound of cards shuffling that caught Bela's attention. She poked her head out of the bedroom and found Dean sitting on the floor near the couch, TV on and showing some stupid commercial. Bela figured it was for a background sound more than anything else, as he didn't seem to pay much attention to what was going on on the screen. Her gaze shifted to his hands and… and what Dean's fingers were doing with the deck of cards could only be called a miracle. So fast, so smooth, so… fascinating. He was moving from type of shuffle to the other without so much as a blink as if he didn't even think about what he was doing.

Bela made her way to the couch, grabbed the remote that Dean left on top of the pillows and flicked TV off. Slid down to take a seat by him then, legs crossed and eyes barely looking away from his hands.

"Seems like I have a damn lot of hidden talents," Dean said with a small smile.

"Seems like you were having a damn lot of free time in the past," Bela teased him lightly.

"Real profi," he nodded with a chuckle. And then added softer, "I was just, you know, thinking that maybe if I start doing something that I know," a shrug, "like this," motioned towards the cards, "I'll remember something." Another shrug and a quick look out of the corner of his eye at Bela.

"Dean…" her heart squeezed. "It's not about…" _anything normal or logical, or anything that could have been changed like that_, she wanted to say.

"It sucks!" He snapped suddenly. "Like _really_ sucks!" Grimaced, annoyed both with his amnesia and this unjustified outburst, his fingers never stop smooth movements. Dean sighed and looked at the cards with disappointment as if they seriously could be of any help in restoring his memory back but didn't want to do it for one reason or another. "I wish I were more than some freaking robot, with no past and everything. I wish… I wish I could remember you," in a whoosh of breath and still noy looking in her direction, which made Bela wonder if she was meant to hear it at all. "But the more I try the less… Shit, Bela! The less it feels like it's gonna happen ever!"

Bela bit her lower lip. Her hand slid down Dean's arm. She took the cards from him, gathered them into a pile and put them aside smiling despite herself at Dean's displeased grunt. Her slender fingers slipped into his palm as she rested her chin on his shoulder and leaned her forehead against his temple breathing in the scent of his cologne, and _Winter Fresh_ fabric softener, and… _Dean_.

"I'm going to say something very egoistic and extremely selfish now," she whispered. "But I am happy that everything happened the way it happened."

He pulled back, looked down at her with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "Why?"

"Because otherwise hell if you were here with me now," with a small smile.

"Why?"

"Because we had a couple of disagreements in the past." Bela reached her hand out, brushed it through his short hair and left it on the back of his neck. "Not _what-rock-music-band-is-the-coolest_ disagreements, but _guns-drawn-and-we're-looking-at-each-other-down-the-barrels_ disagreements."

Dean smirked, and this time smile touched his eyes too, not only his lips. "It bothers me freaking seriously how easily I can imagine something like that."

"Your brother, Sam, is very determined to help you. I'm sure he will. And if there is… nothing, I mean if he can't find a way, I… I'll think something out." _Even if it is going to mean a seriously big trouble for me_. "I promise."

He gave her a wry smile that looked to Bela more shy than Dean-like sarcastic, which made her wonder not once how two so different people could live in one man. The one who was overly annoying and irritating, and pretty much insufferable most of time, full of witty remarks and sarcastic retorts, all superhero without actually being any different from any other ordinary guy, and who made Bela clench her teeth every now and then, generally out of wish to hold back an urge to actually pull the trigger when her gun was on him. And then there was the one who couldn't hold her gaze and blushed whenever she was giving him _that_ look. The one who was making her heart beat somehow faster without any particular effort.

"Tell me one thing."

"What?"

"Am I really such a dolt, or what?"

Bela nearly choked and pretended she had to clear her throat in order not to giggle at the sight of his _so_ pissed-off expression. Forced out, "Why?"

"Because from where I am standing…" he grabbed her and yanked her closer to him, but it was too fast and too unexpected, and they both lost their balance and fell to the floor, laughing, "… I can't see a friggin' reason not to wish to stick around you 24/7."

"Dean, what are you doing?" She squealed and made a poor attempt to look serious. But her lips were stretching into a goofy smile on the will of their own.

"Trying to find an answer to the question that bothers me for quite a while already." His fingers ran up her back and trailed down her sides.

"And what would that be?" Bela cocked her head, narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Are you ticklish?"

--

There was hellfire, and pitch-black darkness – strange how these two opposite concepts existed in one place – and never-ending screams full of pain, both physical and emotional, that practically could have made one's blood run cold. If only there was blood in those who were trapped in eternal damnation.

And there was Dean, in the middle of this terrible chaos of pain and fear and desperation, tortured and suffering… So lost and lonely. One on one with his demons.

Bela woke up with a start and snapped her eyes open into the darkness. Shattered images of her dream still vivid in her mind, and it took her some time to distinguish them from reality. High-pitched voices still screaming in her head. Her heart was pounding like after a quick run and she was breathing similarly, as if there was not enough air in the room or her lungs were too small to take a proper breath.

But she was fully awake at once, her thoughts and conscience switched on and working to their best, which didn't exactly make things better.

She must have jerked or moved somehow, an impulsive urge to run away from whatever was after her for real or in the nightmares, because the very next moment she felt that Dean's grip tightened around her waist, heavy and warm, as if in attempt not to let her go, and pressed her back firmly against the heat of his chest.

"Bela, what is it?" He whispered softly into her hair, clearly not wishing to wake her up if whatever caused her sharp movement hadn't disturbed her sleep. His hot breath tickling her neck.

"Nothing," she murmured and snuggled backwards into the warm safety of his embrace. "Just a bad dream."

"Sure?"

"Uh-huh," nodded somewhere into the pillow.

Groped for his hand that rested comfortably on her stomach and placed her own palm atop of it taking in every bit of the heat of Dean's touch through the thin fabric of the t-shirt that she used for a nightgown.

Too awake, too anxious for no good reason, too shaky and nervous to fall back asleep just like that. Bela had to admit that Luke's words about someone bound to Hell bothered her a bit more than she first thought, although she couldn't say why exactly. Maybe it was the way he said it – his voice when he was saying it, a mixture of gloating delight and mock pity – that got stuck in her mind like a splinter which was going to sore and annoy until it was removed. Sure as hell he didn't mean her cat!

God, she was going crazy!

But it couldn't be Dean either. No way! What on earth could Dean Winchester possibly do to get screwed up like that, for God's sake? Kill a fly? Oh, right, kill a couple hundred of demons, but Bela seriously doubted that it could be about that, unless the world turned upside down without her noticing. It felt weird, as if she had an answer right before her nose but couldn't see it, like it was too close or something.

Bela rolled over and let Dean put his arm around her shoulders. Rested her head on his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under her palm. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. It was just a bad dream after all, way too vivid, true, but it was nothing. Everybody had bad dreams every now and then. And she was probably thinking too much about dream catchers and curses and everything related lately. Surely there was no need to make a fuss about it.

"You okay, babe?" Dean asked quietly, stroking her back.

_Not even close_, she wanted to say because her thoughts were on fire consumed by unreasonable panic and she couldn't get rid of the image of his face, the way she saw him minutes ago, in endless agony.

"Think so," Bela whispered instead and nuzzled into his shoulder.

"You wanna… talk about it?"

He sounded uneasy and not at all enthusiastic about the prospect of her positive answer. Net territory, she guessed, slightly amused. Something that he probably felt would be the right thing to so, somewhere on subconscious level, but what he didn't quite know how to do, as if the words slipped out of his mouth on impulse and now he tried to find a way to cover his tracks. Bela appreciated his attempt though, a lot more than she would appreciate a hundred of other words.

"No," she smiled feeling that tension finally started letting her go. Debated starting a long and meaningful conversation now that he offered it anyway… And thanked God for not being alone, and for that chance, which she still had no idea what to do with, but which she treasured like nothing else in this goddamned life. "It's just… normally, I never have dreams… like that. Any dreams." Looked up at him. "But it's fine, Dean. Really." _The question is, who of us am I trying to convince?_

"Don't think about it. It's over." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Now sleep."

--

"Dean, get away until one of us got hurt!"

"Aw, come on! It is so much fun!"

"No, seriously, these are just cheese toasts," Bela pressed on. "I _can_ cook them without burning them, honestly." And she made an attempt to delicately elbow him away from the gas-stove. Couldn't hide a smile though.

"Yeah, right," Dean hemmed skeptically. He came to her from behind and put to heft palm on top of her hand in which she was holding the handle of a frying pan, as if she really couldn't cope with it on her own or something. "Last time I check we had to re-cook it."

Bela snorted. "Don't you think it is a bad idea to criticize my actions when I have a sharp object in my hand?" And waved a fork pointedly at him.

"You're so damn cute when you're pissed off, I've gotta say," Dean said holding her gaze.

"And that is the reason why you keep on getting on nerves, right?" She scoffed, glared at him from under her lashes, but before she could add anything else on the subject, Dean cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. "Oh, now I see why _exactly_ our food gets burnt."

"Because you're a terrible cook?" He offered willingly.

Bela's cell phone rang before she came up with a decent shot back, something about someone who was probably distracting her on purpose, or something like that. "Duty calls," she made a funny face and slipped out of Dean's arms. Pointed at the frying pan and instructed him, "Watch this!" on grabbing her cell phone from the counter and heading out of the living room and into the terrace.

Rush of the wind stirred her hair which she had pulled up into a ponytail this morning. Bela brushed them off her face and flipped her cell phone open after a quick look at the screen to check on the caller.

"Hi, Sam!" Singsonged into the receiver.

"Um… hey, Bela." He paused, cleared his throat giving her some time to wonder whether it was a keep-alive call or there was something else. "How are you doing? I mean both of you. Hoe's Dean?"

"Perfect!" She assured with without a moment's hesitation. And hell if it was a lie! Bela smiled against herself and waved at Dean _It's okay_ when he poked his head out of the door, all pure curiosity. Damn, she didn't feel this perfect in years! "How is your research going?"

"That's why I'm calling."

"Did you find anything?" Another look back, bet Dean was nowhere to be seen. He probably thought that it was a business call, which technically had nothing to so with him. Bela decided to lower her voice anyway. "Any luck?"

"Well… yes, actually." Sam paused again. And… was it uneasiness that she heard in his voice? She tensed. "I found one ritual, which can make everything the way it was."

"Meaning, restore Dean's memory?" She specified with irritation. No, really, Sam was seriously getting on her nerves with his unwillingness to say a word.

"Um… yeah."

"But that is great, isn't it?" Bela sighed with relief. Hoped that Sam took it as her anticipation to get rid of his brother.

"Guess so."

_Guess so?_ What did he mean – _guess so_?!

"What is it, Sam? Is it not a sure thing or what?"

Dean still stayed inside, and thank God he didn't have a chance to see Bela's overwhelming wish to kill his brother.

"No! No, it is a sure thing. The only two hundred percent sure thing I found so far. Maybe the only sure thing that actually exists."

"Gee, Sam! You made my day!" Couldn't help but tease him.

"Bela…"

"We're moving out right away. What time is it?" She checked on her watch, calculated mentally how much time they'd need to get back to Queens, assuming that they'd probably need to stop in a motel for the night. "Can you make it to my place tomorrow by noon?"

"It is a sure thing," Sam repeated.

"But?" Bela asked warily. "I know that there is _but_ coming. What is it?" Not quite panicking yet but there was this feeling in the pit of her stomach…

Hi sighed. "There is a side effect."

Side… _what?!_

Bela froze. Her heart jumped to her throat and then fell somewhere and broke into pieces.

"Side effect?" She echoed. Did she really hear that? Did he really say _that_? Maybe… maybe it wasn't what he meant. Maybe she just didn't get it right. "What side effect?"

"After everything's over, Dean… he's not going to remember what was happening when he had… _amnesia_." Sam's voice was quiet now, as if he didn't want Dean to overhear or something, but to Bela it seemed like he was screaming right in her ear at the top of his voice. "He's going to forget."

_-- Lying close to you _

_Feeling your heart beating _

_And I'm wondering what you're dreaming _

_Wondering if it's me you're seeing _

_Then I kiss your eyes and _

_Thank God we're together _

_I just wanna stay with you _

_In this moment forever, forever and ever _

_(Aerosmith "I don't wanna miss a thing ") --_

* * *

**To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's notes**: Nothing specific this time actually. I had a couple of rather sleepless nights lately – blame it all on excessive consumption of coffee yummy! - that's why updating so soon :))

Okay, read now!

Reviews are appreciated :))

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Forget._

_Forget._

_Forget…_

Bela couldn't get this word out of her mind; head Sam saying it over, and over, and over again, a vicious circle. It felt like there was nothing left in her head except for this combination of letters throbbing feverishly in time with her heartbeat.

Sam had probably said something else after that. Must have had. Bela couldn't say for sure now. She didn't remember. And hell if it was something good or reassuring anyway. For her the conversation ended on the word _forget_. She couldn't recall saying goodbye, if she did at all. Didn't remember how she hung up. Probably did it without any _goodbyes_ right after that charming _hit-on-the-head_ news. Had a vague memory of wishing to go and drown herself in the bloody crystal-clear lake, though, which wasn't anywhere close to inspiring or comfortable, but really, really attractive all the same...

They were driving for good two hours already, radio on and Dean humming the songs under his breath and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with music, all excited and vibrating with live energy. Impatient, too. Maybe he was talking to her – Bela felt his quick glances at her every now and then. Maybe she was even saying something back automatically. Hell if it was anything meaningful, but seriously, _whatever_! She couldn't even remember clearly how she got into the car, for God's sake! All events of past hours were like some grey stain.

It was only Dean's enthusiastic and excited face that lit up with relief and hope when she told him the news that she could see clearly before her mind's eye. She left out the part about him forgetting the events of several past days though. Couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, as if _knowing_ it was a lot more than she could bear. And what was the point in telling him everything anyway? Could it actually change anything? Hell, no!

She couldn't do this to him, couldn't ask him to make a choice – _Honey, what would you choose – me or your life, your personality and your past? Not a big question, I know. The thing is – there's no way back. But, oh, take your time!_ Gee, ridiculous! Bela saw how much he suffered from not remembering himself. And, truth be told, she was scared like hell to actually find out his answer to this question. Feared it wouldn't be in her favor. How could it be?! He was not insane after all!

Oh, God! It couldn't be happening to her! It simply couldn't…

Bela swallowed that hot lump that started forming in her throat and blinked quickly several times. Folded her arms on the chest and turned away making a very poor attempt to concentrate on the scenery outside the window. Concentrate on anything to make this pain less… painful, which was a very big _Ha!_ right in her face.

Now it was right about time for her car to get broken, she thought bitterly. Like _seriously_ broken! For a week, or two. Or forever. And she wouldn't mind at all if they both had low batteries in their cell phones and if they got stuck in the middle of no where for… as long as possible. Anything would do to delay coming back. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to tell Dean to turn back and drive to… _Canada_? Oh, why not? Run away… escape…

There was a bright side though – if Dean forgot everything, he wouldn't remember her breaking into his father's storehouse and stealing one of their extremely valuable items as well, which probably meant that he wasn't going to rip her head off any time soon. One more victory of Bela Talbot over the Winchesters. And what could she say about that? Perfect! No, really, one bright side against – what? – the whole _bloody_ million of dark sides. Yeah, it was definitely changing everything! Like losing a fortune and hearing _I'm sorry_ from the one who actually caused it. So damn reassuring!

She must have been dreaming, Bela decided at least. No, seriously, what else could it be if not another frigging nightmare of hers? So, logically, all she needed to do was to try hard and wake up, and there would be no Sam's phone call, and they wouldn't be driving to New-York now. Well, the last part wasn't that bad. Bela missed her cat, and her home, and her normal life, if one could call her life normal, but c'mon! How could it be happing for real? Now that she…

Sudden – and so damn untimely! – realization was like a flash of light and a punch in the gut at the same time, blinding and deafening, that made her nearly gasp for air. So terribly clear and obvious that Bela felt extremely stupid at once, as if there were billboards with big glowing letters everywhere wherever she went but she never bothered to pay attention and read them. Stupid, stubborn, blind… Choose whatever you like, not that there was any difference. Should have seen it before. But how could she? Technically speaking, she had no reason to keep her eyes open to something like that until…

Until it was too late, and it definitely was way too late now. And now she was crushed by it. Buried under it.

No, seriously, how could these two most impossible things in the whole wide world happen to her at the same time, one after another? Why wouldn't they… not happen at all?! Oh, her life could be so much easier! Because, honestly, it was probably the first time ever when Bela Talbot had no idea what to do. Like, _really_! Yeah, she had hard times, so what? Been in real crap not once. But there always was something, a way, a lead… a chance. A little lie here, a couple of charming smiles there. Manipulative skilled which she perfected over years were handy, and who could say anything against _that_?! Whereas now – nothing! Meaning, _at all_!

And when was the last time she felt so miserable and humiliated? Bela tried to recall. Well, never. Didn't have a pleasure so far.

"Bela!" Dean's bark right in her ear made her nearly jump on the seat and whirl around to look at him. Caught his questioning glance and understood that he must have said something – and probably not once – and she was obviously supposed to react somehow. "Are you here?" Lightly, like a joke.

"Yeah, I'm just… never mind." She felt dizzy and her heart was probably half-way to jumping out of her chest. So not ready to even stay with him in one car. Too close, too… something. And nowhere to run.

"You okay?" Dean frowned, gave her a long once over.

"I'm fine. Jesus, Dean! Watch the road!" On grasping at the door handle when they almost drove off the asphalt and to the gravel side on the quirk of the road. _And leave me alone, so that I could die as painlessly as possible_, she added rather gloomily in her mind. "Do try not to get us killed please!"

Dean straightened the car without so much as a blink, scowled like a child who's been left without a dessert for no reason, and practically made Bela nearly hate herself for that outburst of irritation. After all, he didn't deserve to be treated like that only because she couldn't take control of her emotions.

"I was asking if you were hungry or something," Dean said quietly – and somewhat cautiously – unnaturally perceptive to her rather snarky mood.

"I'm not," through clenched teeth and on a huff. Wanted to add that he wasn't a reason of her state, not directly. But… excusing herself?!

"You look like you're gonna beat me with that fancy hairbrush of yours."

"What?" Bela whipped her head round once again – thought not without irritation that she'd probably have her neck wrung long before they reach their final destination – and blinked.

Dean shrugged, "Just thought that if you were hungry or… dunno, tired, we might've stopped somewhere." Another shrug, and his rather shameful expression made her feel even worse… Honestly, up to this moment Bela seriously doubted that there could be _worse_.

"Whatever," she muttered and slumped back into the seat, pressed her forehead hard against the window and sighed. Did her best to show that she was not at all interested in any kind of conversation.

_Couldn't do it_, Bela corrected herself mentally, and caught herself on realization that she was getting claustrophobic. Rolled her window down for a bit of a breeze. Not quite helping but better than nothing.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all – to have a huge fight over something ridiculous, so that they'd be pissed off with each other, or even not talk to each other, or something. Maybe it would be easier like that… then.

Or… or what if Sam was wrong? No, really, everyone could be wrong every once in a while, even Sam Winchester, The-Walking-Brain. So, if he was wrong, if it was just a mistake – who knew? He might have simply misinterpreted some part of whatever spell he found! – there wouldn't be any side effects, and Dean wouldn't forget everything, and – hell! – he'd be furious, and Sam would most likely be the first target for leaving his brother with her in the first place. And strange as it was, but the thought was pretty appealing. Bela didn't mind a banter, or a big fight, over one thing or another because, God knew, whatever reason he could come up with was justified. But it would be the best outcome all the same. Maybe…

Or maybe she just had to stop hoping for something that optimistic, for God's sake! Too much to deal with at once, definitely. Especially now that Dean was so close, so real. So alive.

And there still was one more thing that Bela couldn't stop thinking about, and knew that she had to find it out for sure. Wasn't entirely convinced that she actually _wanted_ to know it but…

"Dean?"

"Huh?" Quick cheeky smile in her direction. He reached his hand to lower the volume of the music.

"I think I'd like to have some coffee," _with potassium cyanide, please_, on the lamest smile ever, only a poor imitation of the smile, but to Dean it probably looked like she was tired. "What do you say if we stop somewhere for a while?"

"Sure, babe."

--

The easiest way to actually find an answer to her question was to call Sam of course, and ask him. But Bela didn't want to do it for a couple of reasons, apart from the fact that she was childishly offended by the way he literary pushed her at his brother in the beginning and then – _sorry, I was just kidding!_ First of all, if it was nothing – and Bela was almost 100 sure that it was nothing!... Mm, okay, 80 maybe. Or 50, face the truth! – she'd look rather foolishly because she wasn't supposed to care. At all! She wasn't supposed to give a damn about Dean's life, right? About anyone's life but her own.

Besides, if she called Sam she'd probably have to explain her interest somehow. Tell how she found out… Not that she had to explain anything to anybody in the first place, least of all to Sam Winchester, but as far as she knew Sam, he could be stubborn enough not to say a word until he pulled every bit of information out of her. And, honestly, Bela was in no mood to let someone else lead the game.

So, she chose the longer and harder way instead.

A couple of phone calls while Dean was in the diner for their take-out dinner or something. She didn't care much, just needed him out of her hair for a little while. Needed to be alone on this, hysterical mess that she was.

And it took her only some freaking ten minutes to find out that all her desperation, and pain, and self-pity, and sorrow over some breaking hopes were nothing compared to…

To Dean going to Hell.

To Dean who sold his soul for his brother's life.

To Dean who was going to die in… _months_?!

Oh, God! No! No, no, no! It couldn't be true! There was some mistake. Had to be! It just couldn't be possible, like the sun rising in the west or winning a lottery, or… The most impossible of all impossible things in this goddamned world! Dean Winchester couldn't be…

But Bela knew somewhere in the back of her mind – as much as it was possible to know anything through that feverish and half-crazy panic and her so close to faint condition – that it was real. Some part of her knew it ever since Luke's not so subtle hint. Without details of course – how on earth could she guess that Sam was killed and then brought back to life at the cost of his brother's soul?! – but all in all…

No, really, could this day get any better, or what?! And she was so stupidly naïve to think – for bloody hours!! – that Sam's news was bad! Nah! Not even close.

Actually, Bela could live with Dean not remembering the moments which she considered the best in her entire life, and she could live with it just fine, seriously. So what if he resented and despised her most of time, which was only going to become worse one he found out that she'd stolen the damn dream catcher to save her ass? No doubt that he'd think that she used the situation to seduce him, blame everything on her as if it was she who jumped him, not vice versa. Fine! Who cared? She could even talk herself to accept it as something natural and generally right.

But this?! _Dean dying_… Bela could take it just like this. It was something too huge, too… wrong. Couldn't even process these two words in one sentence, like they were "+" and "-" that simply couldn't stand anywhere close to each other.

And how came she didn't know it?! How could it be that she never heard about any of it before?! That was probably one of the things that bothered Bela most, among another couple hundred of things. She'd been around them for quite a while since… then. And there was nothing! Not a word, not a hint. Not that there was a billboard or something. Her informator didn't have anything to prove it one way or another – and how could such things be proved at all? But rumor was, and there also were talks, and it was way more than enough for her. Trust Dean to do something like that without so much as a reasonable thinking. And, truth be told, she wasn't surprised. Not really. Shocked – yes. Crashed, once again today. But that was Dean after all, a big brother, a protector. A bloody moron!

They could have told her all the same!

The thought was a bit sobering and pretty much infuriating. Well, okay, they weren't the closest friends from the start – and she even admitted it that generally it was her fault, happy now? _Pain in the ass_ would probably be a better definition. But still!

Sam should have told her regardless, when he brought Dean to her place. No, _must_ have told her! That would be honest, and, seriously, she had right to know because if she knew… Bela had no idea what it would change, really, if anything at all, but she'd at least think twice before letting Dean into her life… like this.

Bela raised her head up, realizing somewhat belatedly and pretty much indifferently that she was barely breathing as her lungs were squeezed tight by invisible hand. Saw Dean walking out of the glass door with a paper bag and two plastic cups in his hands, smiling at her….

She stood there leaning against the car hood in the last rays of descending sun, wind stirring her loose hair, and wished like hell for the world to end.

--

A knock on the door and high-pitched _beep_ of coffee machine announcing that the coffee was ready, sounded simultaneously at five minutes past twelve.

"Sam," Bela's lips stretched into a predatory grin that had nothing to do with actual smile. She debated kicking his ass right there and then but, well…

"Bela," he cleared his throat and made his way down the corridor and into the living room looking around somewhat expectedly, cautiously even maybe. Bela recalled him mentioning such things as _yellow tape_ and _crime scene_, and had to admit that he had a point.

"Coffee?" She asked, all hospitality, as if Sam was an old friend who dropped in for a small talk and sandwich or something. Used it as a ploy to delay what he actually came for. As for her, she was about to have a whole gallon of it, black and strong.

Bela spotted a worn-out backpack on Sam's left shoulder where, she figured, he had his mojo stuff for the spell, and swallowed hard despite herself, her heart started some crazy dance in her chest in anticipation of… something. Whatever result there would be.

"No, thanks." Sam shook his head, dropped the backpack near the couch.

He looked uneasy, Bela decided. Not anywhere close to being comfortable. Made her wonder somewhat distractedly about the reason but, truth be told, she didn't care much. Didn't care at all, although guessed that it could probably have something to do with the fact that she had home, and nice home it was, whereas the Winchesters were more accustomed to crappy motels. But it was only a guess, something that she didn't quite want to even start thinking about. She had a role to play and it was taking her too much to stay concentrated to care about anything else. Bela had no intention to lose her face before one of the Winchesters, or both. Whatever!

"Fine," she nodded, sighed with relief for show. Folded her arms on the chest, out of wish to hide her obviously shaking hands in the first place, but still all _I'm so sick with this_ _all! _externally. Sam seemed to buy it.

"It won't take long," he promised, clearly not keen on sticking around for long. "And it won't be difficult."

"Hope you're going to do everything right _this_ time," on an expressively arched eyebrow. And then quieter, dropping eyes contact and looking instead at her fingernails, perfectly polished and covered with beige nail enamel, "I didn't tell him…" she trailed off with a shrug, as disinterested as possible.

Sam got what she meant though, if his quick nod was any indication and, well, he didn't' ask any questions.

"Okay, then I won't…"

"Sam!" Dean appeared somewhere from behind and patted his brother wholeheartedly on the back making Sam choke around the end of the phrase and wince. Beamed his two-thousand-watt smile at little bro. Without any actual recognition though, Bela noted. The way one would look at their savior-to-be, out of natural heartfelt gratitude, nothing more than that.

"Hi, Dean," Sam smiled back at him rather wryly, obviously relieved to see Dean alive and in one piece, and moved his shoulder cautiously, clearly checking if it still was in place.

"Have you seen my…" Dean started looking at Bela.

"Your watch is on the coffee table," before he could finish his question, on the smile, God help her!

"Thanks, babe!"

"What…?" Sam's eyes popped out of his head and started darting between his brother and Bela. "_Babe?!_" He hissed when Dean was far enough not to hear it. Ran his fingers through his hair with a hint of panic. "Jesus, Bela! I asked you to _look_ after Dean. _Help_ him. Not _sleep_ with him! See the difference?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Sam." She hissed back with a grimace. "But from where I'm standing, you must have missed a point or two in my job description. Besides, Dean is a big boy and it wasn't like I made him do something against his will, you see."

"And now you say it like…" Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Did you get the part of him forgetting… the details?" Narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.

"Not that there happened anything special to remember anyway," she shrugged matter-of-factly as if she was speaking about yesterday's weather, and rolled her eyes when Sam huffed. "Do we have to make such a fuss about it? Really, Sam! Care so much for your brother's private life? Aw, that's sweet!"

"You…" his jaw twitched.

"I am what?" She tipped her chin high with challenge – pure provocation. They glared at each other, lips pursed tight and eyes flaring. "Don't you dare look at me like this. You're not the one to judge what is right and what is wrong." A pause. "You came here to help your brother, remember? Let's just be done with it, shall we?"

"Right," with dark determination to leave her apartment as quickly as possible. "Dean, ready?"

Bela clenched her teeth. Clenched her hands around her arms as well, so hard that her knuckles grew white but she could barely feel it anyway. Practically held her breath watching Sam getting prepared.

He retrieved several candles from his backpack – black ones, as far as Bela could see from her disposition near the counter. No one asked her for assistance so far, so she decided to stay away from this all. Old book in worn-out black cover followed the candles. And a box with chalks. Sam shot a quick frowned look at her, which Bela met with blank expression and no comments. Her cat jumped up to the counter and sat next to her, obviously curious but still aware to come close. Bela scratched him between the ears, let him rub his cold wet nose against her chin.

"Going to miss him, too?" Asked in a whisper. "But it is a right thing to do." Nodded as if it was her cat to be persuaded, not she. "We can't do anything about it. _I_ can't." The cat purred softly in response. Bela sighed. "Thank God, I have you."

She watched Sam drawing something on top of her antique table – something, for what she'd probably kill anyone a week ago! But she didn't give a damn about the bloody furniture now, even assuming that it was a really expensive furniture. What Bela felt now was desperation caused by steady approach of something inevitable. Something that she was unable to change.

"This it?" Dean hemmed looking at the arrangements, but couldn't hide his hope behind the façade of skepticism all the same, no matter how strange and shady Sam's manipulations seemed to him. "O-okay, then. What should I do?"

"Nothing!" Sam got up to his feet shaking the chalk off his hands – right onto her Persian carpet! He looked down at the table where the candles were put in specific positions, small fire of each of them trembling slightly. "You don't have to do anything, Dean." He grabbed him by the arm and pushed him forward, so that Dean took place right in front of the table, his back to Bela now. "Just stay here and… it's going to take several minutes. And it's not going to hurt, man." Patted him on the back. "I hope."

"You hope?" Dean snapped his head after Sam who went to pick the book from the couch, "What do you think you _hope_?!" Two steps from fleeing, Bela realized.

"Relax, dude," Sam grinned and shook his head. He made sure that everything was set right and gave Bela a warning look as if suspecting that she could do something to ruin the spell, which she wasn't – scout's honor! She regarded him back with displeasure to make them even. "Well, let's start."

Dean cast a glance at Bela over his shoulder, something that looked very much like panicked _help me!_ to her, and then a quick _he's-crazy!_ look out of the corner of his eye shot in Sam's direction. Made big eyes and funny face at her.

She sent him a small reassuring smile – now that Sam was not looking at her – and nodded _It's all right_, which seemed to sooth him. Kept the bloody smile until Dean turned back away again, and bit her lip then. It was probably a good idea to leave, wait until everything was over in her room or elsewhere. But she couldn't make herself move.

Oh, God, how on earth she was going to make it through? Bela caught her breath and balled her fists so tight that her nails dug deeply into her palms. And it wasn't a thing to be proud of, but deep inside – and not so deep, too – Bela hoped with all her heart that the damn spell wouldn't work, that something would go wrong, which wasn't really nice, but honestly, she couldn't care less right now. She didn't want to lose him. Wasn't ready to. _Aw, come on, girl! Face the truth! You can't lose him. And you know why? Because he never was yours!_ – little evil voice in her head.

Sam started reading the text of the spell, his eyes locked on the book, although he allowed a couple of quick glances at Dean who didn't seem to take any of what was happening seriously and looked pretty skeptical about the whole candles-and-enchantments thing. Lucky! Bela nearly envied him.

Sam's voice was steadily growing louder – or was it her imagination? – and then there was a moment… Dean stepped back abruptly as if someone – or _something_? some force, whatever it was – pushed him into the chest. He turned around, blinked pretty dumbly a couple of times, shook his head as if in an attempt to clear his thoughts, and at last fixed his eyes on Bela.

The spell worked. She knew it, right there and then without so much as a word from Dean. The way he looked at her, exactly like _the_ Dean… Eyes sharp as razor and offensively suspicious for no reason. It turned her stomach.

"Dude, what the hell is _she_ doing here?" Dean whipped back to Sam and finally bothered to take a better look at the surroundings. Dropped his jaw. "No, Sammy, what the hell are _we_ doing here?!"

"Good point!" Bela pushed herself off the counter, best annoyed and irritated expression on her face. Couldn't make herself look directly at Dean though, so she glared at Sam instead. "Get out of here, both of you."

And she didn't even look at them leaving. Couldn't see Dean walking away from her, out of her life. Heard him wondering on the exit, "No, man, seriously, how the hell did we get here?" or something like that, and dared to turn back only to the soft _cling_ of the lock. Wished they slammed the bloody thing instead…

And it was the end…

* * *

**The end**

**Or…? **

**Okay, okay! To be continued… **

**M-m, maybe. Still considering, actually. I never promised happy-ending, right?**

**And, oh, until I forgot - comments are always welcome! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's notes:** Honestly, I wrote this chapter a long time ago, somewhere between Ch 5 and 6 I guess. Just woke up one morning and had it fully formed in my head, so weird, but that's how it usually works :) I wasn't sure if I should post it though, because Ch 9 could be the last, and it would be okay.

But then… seriously, there are too many unhappy-endings in real life whether we want them or not. So why make another unhappy-ending when it could be happy instead? And wasn't it enough that my fav Spn character was killed off in the show? I couldn't believe it; I still can't; and I hope that sooner or later Bela is going to be back. And speaking of fav characters… how could I leave her unhappy and broken?

Another song-chapter…

* * *

 **Chapter finale**

_---What if I told you I've changed,_

_Would you still walk away?_

_What if I told you I loved you,_

_Would you say that it's too late?_

_What if you could feel what I feel_

_When I watch you slowly drift away?_

_What if you're wrong?_

_What if I'm right?_

_You could move on…_

_What if you stay?---_

Bela leaned against the door, not really feeling cold steel with her back, and took several short convulsive breaths when muffled steps in the hallway faded away. Burning lump started forming in her throat and she had to bite her lower lip to stop unbidden tears from sliding down her cheeks. Bite it so hard that she even felt the taste of blood in her mouth. She wasn't going to cry. She couldn't afford crying. No way…

Well, she knew it would end like this, didn't she? She knew it from the start, no matter how hard she tried to pretend that it could be any different. No matter how desperately she wanted it to be something more than…than she didn't know what. She knew that Dean was going to forget everything, but preferred to pretend that there was hope, that Sam might be wrong about it, and it was her mistake. Rule #1 was to be honest with herself. Always. She wasn't this time, and look where it led!

It was so naïve, so childish to believe that they actually had a chance. She and Dean. Beautiful fairy-tale that ended by the dawn like a dream and left her broken and miserable. And alone. And what the hell could she do about it anyway? Tell him everything? Let him laugh her in the face? Let him say that he was not himself that he didn't know what he was doing? That it was nothing at all? Like it wasn't humiliating enough to _know_ it! Like she wasn't more broken than she ever thought she could be.

Not able to stand on her trembling legs any longer, Bela slid down the door. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed them hard to her chest feeling that something was squeezing her lungs so tight that she could hardly breathe. She didn't want to cry, didn't mean to. Not because of _him_! Hell if he deserved her tears, this cold, arrogant, unbearable…

She knew she was strong. Stronger than that anyway. She knew she could handle it, go through it. Make it nothing more than a vague episode from the past. The one she'd learn to look back at without so much as a skipped heartbeat. Some day. And right now she just needed to take one small breath after another. Live through this minute, then through the next… Couldn't think any further now, but that was okay. She was going to make it, no matter what. And – hey! – she'd been through worse things, right? What was one little broken heart compared to… to…

Hot tears started streaming down her cheeks before she realized it and could take control of it. Her shoulders began to tremble slightly as Bela made an attempt to suppress her sobs, but she only made it worse. She hated Dean Winchester for that. For making her feel so terribly lost, and lonely, and… betrayed maybe. Cheated. For making her remember how to hope and wish for more than she could have.

_To hell with you, Dean Winchester!_ Bela thought angrily. _Go there! Save your precious brother! Hope you'll get to the hottest frying pan ever!_ And that very moment Bela Talbot meant every curse with all her heart, out of wish to make him feel the slightest bit of what she was feeling right now more than anything else because it hurt so much that she thought she was going to die.

So, she buried her face in her knees and let the storm grow stronger, hoping that she was going to feel better once it was over. And knowing for sure that it wasn't going to happen any time soon.

_---I can't make you turn around,_

_And I can't take back what I did,_

_I wouldn't blame you if you hated me…_

_(Chuck Wicks "What if you stay?")---_

---

There was one phone call, and one phone call only, which was surprising because, honestly, Bela never would have thought that she could be _that_ strong. And even still it took her the whole two hours to talk herself into dialing the number, although what could be easier than pushing several buttons? But every time she took a receiver, there always appeared urgent things to be done right away, like feeding her cat, or watering the flowers, or pacing back and forth along the living room, or polishing her nails. Sure, making her dishes was a priority #1. And, seriously, these all were very good excuses, weren't they? But when there was nothing left she had to finally make a choice – to call or to forget about it, and she new that she wouldn't be able to forget even before the thought fully formed in her mind.

So, she took a deep breath like before diving into the water and pushed _Dial_. Felt her stomach flopping uncomfortably but knew that she could handle it, now that there was no way back. Had to, actually. But…

"_Yeah_," way too familiar voice grunted on the other end of the call.

"Hi, Sam," Bela drawled, forced herself to smile so that he could hear it. And, okay, talking to Sam was the best she could do. Couldn't make herself dial Dean's number anyway. No way on Earth!

"_Bela_," which sounded more like _Why the hell did you bother me with you phone call?_ And although he didn't say it, his voice was cold enough for her to hear it. _Feel_ it. Like, reading between the lines. Except for there were no lines.

And… silence. He was definitely waiting for her to continue since it was she who made a call.

Bela closed her eyes and counted to five, checked if Sam hung up and went on when it turned out that he didn't, obviously curious despite himself since there was no particular reason for her to call. She hoped that she managed to keep her voice level and indifferent enough. Wondered if Dean was anywhere around, and, honestly, wanted him to be. Maybe she could hear his voice, a word or two… Or maybe not, and it would be better because it definitely was more than she could handle right now. Well, anyway…

"Heard about that haunted house in Philadelphia, which you made not so haunted," she said. "Good job!"

Sam sneered. "_Do you care?_"

"Not really," she admitted easily, and paused, willing herself to sound all business. "Anyway…" Another deep breath, and her finger was seconds away from pushing _Disconnect_ button. "I know about Dean's deal, Sam."

The pause on the line was so long and heavy that Bela suspected it would never end. What would she feel had she been in Sam's place?

"_How do you…?_"

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off. Sighed. "I know how to break it."

Sam choked. She could have sworn that whatever he was occupying himself with while talking to her, he stumbled and choked, because that was how it sounded. And she knew that he caught his breath, too.

"_If it is a joke…_" Sam started cautiously, hoping, Bela knew. Clinging on to any half-lead. Ready to accept any help. Even _her_ help.

"It isn't," she hissed with fury, genuinely insulted. "Now shut up and listen to me. There is this ritual…" And she described it to him in as much details as she could, every nuance, every moment, praying for him to remember it all – write it all maybe – so that he did everything the way it should be done. "It is risky," she finished, grateful that Sam never interrupted her. He was probably too busy with memorizing her words to think properly about anything else. "And I can't promise that it's going to work. But if it works…" by the end of her monologue Bela's voice softened. Not too much, she hoped because, hell, she was so consumed with all this hope and emotions and fear that she wondered how she managed not to give herself away so far. "Give it a try." Thank God, they weren't talking face-to-face!

Sam cleared his throat. She knew her call was a surprise for him and now he tried to collect his thoughts, utterly torn between hope and disbelief. "_Um… okay,_" she heard at last and couldn't help but sigh with relief. "_It sounds… promising_." And it did sound like he was offering a truce. But still, "_What's in it for you, anyway?_"

Bela clenched her teeth.

"Don't you think I can be good every once in a while?" All innocence!

"_No_," without so much as a moment's hesitation.

"Whatever." Bela rolled her eyes and grimaced as if Sam could see her, a little too hurt by his response. "Don't tell Dean that you found out about all this stuff from me, okay?" She asked. Nearly whispered. She didn't know Dean well, not _the_ Dean, but what she knew was enough to be sure that he might be too stubbornly stupid to refuse to do whatever could actually help him out of the deal only because _she_ offered it. And, truth be told, she couldn't even blame him for that. "Call me if it doesn't work," added even quieter. _Because if it doesn't, I swear to God I'll come up with something else, anything. But I won't let him… never…_

Wondered if Sam heard her.

He did. "_Sure_." Paused uneasily. "_And what if it…_"

Obviously, Dean wasn't around. Otherwise he'd without a doubt appear somewhere there as a background noise, attracted by the weird and mostly one-sided conversation.

"If it works, I'll know, right?" Bela mustered a resentful snort. _Sooner or later_.

And hung up before Sam could say one thing or another. Before Dean showed up. Before she started asking questions about him because it was the worst idea ever. Before she confided that she was scared like hell or anything else stupid. It was more than she could handle at the moment.

She eased her white-knuckled grip on the cell phone and put it away after the final look at the black screen. Sam didn't call back right away to specify the details of the ritual like she half-expected, and there were only two explanations of that – he either got it right, or ignored her call. Preferred to rely on himself, or Bobby, or Ruby, or… luck.

Bela hoped that he was smarter than that. And anyway, she did what she was meant to do. All she could do now was wait… and hope.

---

Business was business and no bloody hunter could ruin it, even if he tried, intentionally or not.

Bela got an un-cursing spell from Bobby, and – shocking! – he didn't even ask any questions. Well, she got him in the middle of something more important and blamed his disinterest on whatever he was occupying himself with. Another job, she guessed. Wheedled a promise out of him not to tell Sam and Dean she contacted him though, out of wish to protect herself from this potential headache in the first place, and settled her business with Luke after that hoping he'd get rid of the dream catcher before her trick was discovered. Anyway, he never showed up at her doorstep with a gun pointed at her head so far, so she preferred to think that it worked.

Then she sold a charm she had and spent almost all money she got for it to buy a painting. Sold it, too, for the double price. Went to Texas after that to retrieve an old magic book that, rumor was, belonged to Salem witches centuries ago. Got stuck in Virginia for two days on the way back because it was pouring cats and dogs for almost forty hours in a row. It made her regret she didn't fly instead of driving actually, but all in all it didn't matter because her buyer was willing to wait for a while. And – hey! – she did get her money after all, didn't she?

Life was going on. Poor imitation of what it was before actually, but it was going to get better some day. Or maybe not. Who knew? At least that was what Bela tried to persuade herself of. As for now, living through the day – one after another – was the greatest achievement, like winning a race or taking the highest barrier. Sam never called her, and Bela didn't know if it was a good or a bad sign. She knew they were both okay – alive – but that was it. Didn't know the details and didn't want to. Not really…

Bela woke up in the middle of the night, rolled over to another side and groped for the soft and warm form of her cat not even opening her eyes. That unexpected and utterly annoying wish to feel a living creature by her side started bothering Bela already but she hoped it would end some time soon. Blamed it on lack of sleep and intense job. Yeah, she hadn't been sleeping well lately, counted herself lucky if she managed to grab three of four hours during the night. But it couldn't last forever, right? So, all she could do was just wait patiently for something to change. Tried hard not to think about anything but her job, and almost succeeded.

Her cat was nowhere to be found and Bela forced her eyes open. Observed empty bed and nearly groaned. Where could he be? Usually he was sleeping with her through entire night as if feeling that silent company was what she needed most, and she appreciated it, really. He might have went downstairs though, Bela decided, to eat or something. She remembered leaving him full bowl of cat food in the evening. Or maybe he decided to check on one of numerous night sounds that might seem suspicious to him.

Bela sighed and kicked her blankets aside. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without soft purring form right there with her. So, it made sense to go downstairs and look for her little friend if she wanted to have a couple more hours of her so-called sleep filled with dreams, which she tried not to even think about during daylight.

The lights were out and the only source of illumination was a streetlamp outside the living room window. It wasn't bright but all the same it was enough to let Bela pass through her apartment without stumbling or dropping something valuable to the floor. Or wringing her neck on the stairs. Red indicator on her security system panel flickered steadily in the corridor near the door.

"Hey, kitty-kitty-kitty!" She whispered into the darkness and looked around expecting to see her cat running towards her across the hallway, tail up.

Well, she was alone and it was stupid to whisper, and generally she could have turned the lights on, but she didn't want to and whispering in the darkness seemed to be the most right thing to do.

"Losing your grip, Bela, huh?" The voice came somewhere from her couch, accompanied by the chuckle.

It made her jump on the spot and whirl around with lightning speed, her heart started hammering in her chest at least three times faster than usually, out of surprise, or shock, or who knew what else. The first impulse was to reach for her gun but as soon as Bela did so, she realized that she was dressed in nothing but her pajama shorts and a t-shirt, and her gun was left upstairs.

And, anyway, it didn't look like she needed it.

Seeing dark form of Dean Winchester on the white leather of her couch made Bela nearly regret that she didn't have some kind of weapon close at hand. Chances were, one bullet might make him stop scaring crap out of her every once in a while. She scowled at the sight of her cat sitting in his lap and clenched her teeth.

"What the… What are you doing here, Dean?" Bela hissed, all indignation, put her hands on her hips and tipped her chin high. Tried to ignore her stomach that started flopping violently. Held her breath in anticipation of an answer because from where she was standing, she could see no reason for him to be here… to even give her an extra thought, unless he didn't have money even for the cheapest motel ever and decided to drop in here instead of sleeping in the car, which wasn't inspiring supposition and it only made her frown harder.

God knew, she did her best to stay out of his way lately. For the whole three weeks, five days and – what time was it? – eight hours. But who is counting, Bela thought bitterly.

"Been waiting for almost two hours already," Dean said, and was it her imagination or did his words really sound somewhat accusatory? As if he expected her to feel him or something!

Bela snorted.

"It is not an answer to my question," she pointed out. "And, honestly, I don't want to know it. Just get out and stop breaking into my place in the middle of the night whenever you feel like it. It stopped being new and exciting a long time ago."

She switched on reading lamp at last. It felt strangely uncomfortable to talk to Dean in the dark. Well, maybe not uncomfortable exactly but Bela felt somewhat vulnerable when she couldn't see his face because, knowing Dean, the expression of his eyes could be a better answer than any words he might be saying. Besides, she wanted to see him before he left, which was probably a matter of five minutes, at most. Had to memorize it in case she wouldn't have another chance any time soon.

He looked tired and there were lines in the corners of his eyes that she didn't remember. But she blamed it on lack of sleep, assuming the time, and maybe his overly rich with events life, and refused to feel any sympathy. Not now.

"I need to talk to you," Dean answered simply.

"The phone would work, too, you know. And… Jesus, Dean! Why always at night?" Bela rolled her eyes melodramatically and congratulated herself mentally on keeping her voice irritated, not shaking.

"Been to Montana," he shrugged, and had Bela not known him better, she'd think the gesture was apologetic. Awkward. "Bloody poltergeist. A spirit of some crazy old broad was driving mad the whole hotel because she was freaking pissed off when her grandson turned her lovely house into a public place." Another shrug. "Halloween's always busy time."

"Charming! I can imagine how much fun the two of you had. Would you like to discuss it in detail?" She cut her tongue before the question about the damn ritual and its consequences slipped out. Supposedly, she couldn't know about it. Supposedly, she didn't know about Dean's deal in the first place. "Where is Sam, anyway?"

"On the hunt," matter-of-factly.

"Really? Alone? Gee, and I thought that you're like musketeers, always together."

"We can't be like musketeers," Dean snorted. "There were _three_ of them."

"Right," Bela nodded. "My point exactly – you, Sam and your precious car."

And he definitely winced when she mentioned the Impala, she noted.

Bela kept on standing and looking at him from above, wondering how much time he would need to take it as a hint to get out. Tried to ignore his studying gaze although it definitely made her feel slightly uneasy. It felt like it was the first time that he looked at her and actually _saw_ her. Of course it was nothing, just her imagination, what else? But it felt creepy anyway. Bela shifted her weight from foot to foot and scowled.

Made an attempt to recall any point where their paths could possibly cross in the past few weeks but found none and anything but sighed with relief. It wasn't business then. Probably. Although she wouldn't put it past Dean to blame his every failure on her. Old habits die hard.

"Sam told me everything," he said suddenly.

"Oh, come on!" She rolled her eyes and sneered. "Even Sam can't know _everything_!"

Dean ignored her sarcasm though and went on, "About this freaking accident with memory loss and…"

And it was a miracle that Bela didn't collapse right away because she seriously suspected for a moment or two that she could. Wondered somewhat absentmindedly if Dean could hear that crazily thumping of her heart, too. As for her, she could hardly hear anything _but_ it, in her head, in her mind. Everywhere. It was sort of blocking all other sounds around, and thoughts too, truth be told.

Sam couldn't… could he? No, of course not! He wouldn't dare… Not because of her, but because he probably didn't want to even think about theoretical possibility of her relationship with his brother.

Bela hoped she managed to keep her cool, at least externally. She swallowed hard and wondered if she paled a bit. Well, even if she did, dim light of reading lamp was probably a good cover.

Dean didn't seem to pay attention to her uneasiness though, and once Bela managed to cope with her emotions – in a way – she saw that he looked rather confused. Embarrassed even.

"What about it?" She asked indifferently.

"Well… um, nothing. Just… It's creepy, you know," he confessed softly, all his attention on her cat. "One moment I was drawing protection symbols on the floor of that bleeding warehouse while Sam read that Latin stuff out loud, and the next I was here, in your place, almost one freaking week later." He gave out short laugh, and scratched Bela's cat between his ears and, well, didn't look like he was intended to leave any time soon. And then raised his head to look Bela in the face. "Sam told you were… kind of helping."

Yeah, with _kind of_ being the key words!

"Helping!" Bela snorted. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad after all. "It wasn't my choice, actually, and Sam might have mentioned it." She grimaced at him and folded her arms on the chest. Wished she were wearing a housecoat over her pajamas. It would definitely make her feel better. "Besides, he was supposed to _pay_."

"Well, yeah… maybe," Dean ran his hand through his short hair.

"Oh, please tell me that you didn't make all this way from Montana only to say thank you," she cocked her head in mock sympathy. "I appreciate it, Dean. Really. But a simple postcard would be enough. I'd stick it to my fridge as a reminder of how damn generous I can be from time to time."

Dean chuckled. He let go off her cat, got to his feet and made a circle around her antique coffee table. Paused to take a close look at the book or one of the statuettes on the shelf – Bela didn't understand – and then turned and peered intensely at her, considering.

"Do you really think that everything in this life is about you?"

Bela held his gaze, all dignity, and didn't look away, as much as she'd like to. Hell, the sound of his voice in her dreams was driving her crazy. His presence in her living room in the flesh, so warm and close, was making her wish to run away.

"It is just a guess, assuming that you came to _my_ place." And she even managed to keep her voice level, which could be called a really serious achievement. "What is this little chit-chat about then?"

Dean watched her face without saying a word long enough for Bela to start feeling extremely uncomfortable. She glared coldly back at him, chin tipped high, all pure challenge and confidence. From outside. But, seriously, she'd rather he said something – anything, really! – to end this silent game. If it was a game. Well, whatever the hell it was. But she hadn't spoken first, decided to let him be responsible for whatever was going on here.

"Yeah, right," Dean smirked at last, gave her a long one over again and shook his head. Bela didn't need to be a genius to see that generally he addressed that smirk to himself, not to her at all. A bitter curve of lips that lacked any actual humor or fun. Sadness was there though, some kind of very human sorrow and something that Bela didn't recognize. "I should have known better than that."

Better than…

"Stop it, Dean!" She snapped. To hell with self-control. The whole situation was getting ridiculous, for God's sake! "You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night surely not out of wish to entertain yourself, so stop talking to me in half-phrases and tell me what the hell you came here for in a full, meaningful and informative sentence!"

Bela wanted him out of her place. Out of her life! Now! Without a trace!

But even more she wanted him to stay. And she wanted it so badly that the longer he stood there before her, the more obvious it was becoming that she was getting very close to begging him to stay. So, the sooner he disappeared into nowhere, the better.

"It's nothing. Do you have a beer or something?"

He headed past her into the kitchen, and hemmed when Bela practically sucked her belly in to avoid accidental touch.

"Dean, you can't just…" she cut off and rolled her eyes when he shot his brows up. "_Whatever!_ Just tell me what the hell it is." Noted that she sounded considerably softer, and added not without sarcasm, "No, seriously, you've got to tell me. I probably won't be able to fall asleep until you satisfy my curiosity." Ha! Like she would at all, now that he freaking revived so many memories, cut the wound open again. Thanks! So damn timely!

He shut her fridge with a grimace, and it was a justified grimace Bela had to admit. A bottle of juice that expired a week ago, a couple of yogurts and a long forgotten can of tuna wouldn't impress her too, had she been in his place. No beer.

And then, in a rush of sudden confidence, not quite looking at her – not looking _anywhere_, actually, "I've been having these dreams lately. About you and me." A pause and a wince. "Pretty annoying stuff, I've gotta say, and it totally freaked me out. It's just they were, you know, more like… memories, than dreams." He shrugged with confusion, still not meeting her eyes. Preferred to study a shell-shaped magnet instead. "Something like that. Dunno." Huffed with frustration and clear annoyance. "Man, I already speak like Sam! It sounds so girly that I regret brining the subject up at all."

"So, you've been having dreams about me," Bela drawled feeling as if he had just hit her in the gut – so very close to gasping for air. It couldn't be happening… It couldn't… And it was a miracle that she managed to keep her voice light and mocking. "How sweet, Dean. I'm flattered, really. Just give me a second to cope with all this unexpected happiness, and… yes, I definitely should mark that day in my calendar. Do you have a red pen?" She cocked her head and arched an eyebrow.

"Not that I expected anything," Dean smirked after a while. Gave her apartment a quick once over as if trying to memorize it or something – like looking for a reason to stay but obviously found none, and headed for the door. "See ya then, Bela," threw over his shoulder without so much as a look back. Waved his hand vaguely. "Be good."

And he was gone, the smell of his cologne and something else painfully familiar left behind him.

Slowly, Bela followed him to the door. Needed to close it properly anyway, turn the security system on, that was what she told herself. The lamest excuse ever. She felt dizzy and could hardly breathe; her eyes and throat were burning with the upcoming tears. Her heart was very close to jumping out of her chest, or stopping, which didn't quite matter either. Nothing would change essentially if it did stop for real, Bela thought somewhat indifferently.

She leaned her forehead against the cold steel and started taking deep and slow breaths hoping that they would hold the tears. What the hell did she just do? Why? It was her only chance. One in a million. Something that she didn't even dare to hope for. And she let him go once again. Let him slip away just like that. Probably, forever this time.

Why did he come at all? Why did he have to break whatever peaceful Dean-Winchester-free world she managed to create for herself over these weeks? Was it a matter of honor for him or what? Like another point in his life goals list, if he even had one. Wasn't turning her entire existence upside down and making her feel miserable enough for now?

She covered the doorknob where Dean's hand touched it minutes ago with her palm as if it could still keep the warmth of his body, but there was nothing. Reached for the lock, but then suddenly yanked the door open in a rush of… something. Crazy hope maybe. Desperation. Need.

And…

And he was there, standing in the middle of the hallway, looking right back at her.

Bela swallowed. Paused in the doorway, surprised, and relived, and confused, and scared, and God knew what else. Couldn't think properly anyway to even start trying to define her feelings.

They watched each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then – Bela didn't even notice how Dean crossed the distance between them – he was right before her, pushing his hands through her hair, framing her face, and his lips were on hers before she could blink. Before she could fully realize what was happening. So warm, and soft, and familiar. And it all was like _finally_. Like coming home. And she was clinging on to his jacket, and his arms, and wherever else she could reach, as if he could disappear like a dream in the morning, thoughts getting rather mixed and foggy.

"I knew it wasn't just some freaking stupid dream, always felt it," Dean whispered as he rested his forehead against hers, giving them both a chance to catch their breath, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Been thinking of you all the time, Bela," he confided softly, barely audibly on a sharp intake of breath. "Couldn't get you out of my head for one goddamned minute. Thought I'd go crazy."

"I take it you were missing me, Dean," she murmured and caught his mouth with hers once again, claiming for more, making the moment last forever.

"What? A couple of nightmares, and you already start flattering yourself, sweetheart?"

Bela laughed softly.

And they probably looked extremely stupid from outside, standing like that in the doorway of her apartment, which seemed strangely right.

"Liar."

"Says who?" Dean chuckled. Then, "You know what I think of your business, do you?" Bela nodded shortly. _To hell with business, not now_. "And you know what? I don't care, really." He paused, traced a feather light touch down her cheek. "Well, not much. But… just tell me one thing, Bela. And I want to hear the truth this time." Another effective pause, and she knew what he was going to ask. "Did we really break into the storehouse in Black Rock?"

**The End**

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The real ending this time :) I leave the rest to your imagination!

**PS A/N:** This fic is the longest of all my fics so far, a kind of personal milestone. And I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Reviews are highly appreciated!


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